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THE STRANGE 
lADYENTURES OF 
LUCY SMITH 


BY 


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.Si 


AUTHOR OF 

** As IN A Looking Glass,^^) 
“ The Dean and His 
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rvs 


Catered at the Poet 0*ce, N. T., as eeeond<lase matter. Copjri<?ht, 1884, by Johm W. Ldyill OoMPaiiT. Iiiued Tri-Voekly. 
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1034 Mary Anerley 20 

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1038 Cripps the Carrier .20 

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764 A Fair Mystery' 20 

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806 From Out the Gloom 20 

807 Which Loved Him Best 10 

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809 The Smof a Lifetime 20 

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812 Wife in Name Only 20 

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898 Marjorie .20 

922 A Wilful Maid 20 

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929 Under a Shadow 20 

930 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

932 Hilary’s Folly 20 

933 A Haunted Life 20 

934 A Woman’s Love Story 20 

969 A Woman’s War 20 

984 ’Twixt Smile and Tear 20 

9.^5 Lady Di-ma’s Pride 20 

986 Belle of Lyun 20 

988 Marjorie's Fate 20 

989 Svveet Cymbeline ;.20 

1007 Redeemed by Love 20 

1012 The Squire's Darling 10 

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167 Anti-Slavery Days 20 

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686 My Lad j’’s Money 10 

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672 Slings and Arrows 10 

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865 The Pathfinder 20 

878 Homeward Bound 20 

441 Home as Found 20 

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467 The Prairie 20 

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484 The Two Admirals. 20 

488 The Water-Witch 20 

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617 Heidenmauer 20 

519 The Headsman 20 

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639 Miles Wallingford 20 

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548 Mercedes of Castile 20 

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676 The Chain-Bearer 20 

687 Ways of the Hour 20 

601 Precaution 20 

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611 JackTier 20 

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1041 The World Between Them 20 

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615 The Little Good-for-Nothing 20 

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38 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

75 Child’s History of England ..20 

91 Pickwick Papers, 2 Parts, each 20 

140 The Cricket on the Hearth 10 

144 Old Curiosity Shop, 2 Parts, each... 15 

150 Barnaby Rudge, 2 Parts, each 10 

1.58 David Copperteld, 2 Parte, each. . . .2(* 

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192 Great Expectations 20 

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288 Somebody’s Luggage, etc 10 

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162 Faith and Unfaith 20 

168 Beauty’s Daughters 20 

284 Ilossmoyne 20 

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630 In Durance Vile 10 

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621 A Maiden all Forlorn 10 

624 A Passive Crime .10 

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792 Her Week's Amusement 10 

802 Lady Valworth's Diamonds 20 

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7(51 Count of Monte Cristo, Part II 20 

775 The Three Guardsmen 20 

Twenty Years After 20 

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877 Defoe, by William Minto 10 

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386 Locke, by Thomas Fowler 10 

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398 Pope, by Leslie Stephen 10 

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861 Shelley, by J. Symouds 10 

404 Southey, by Professor Dowden 10 

431 Spenser, by the Dean of St. Paul’s. . 10 
344 Thackeray, by Anthony Trollope. ..10 
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654 Love’s Harvest 20 

8.56 Golden Bells 10 

874 Nine of Hearts 20 

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473 C hristmas Stories 20 

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50 Early Days of Christianity, 2 Parts, 
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1004 This Man’s Wife 20 

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41 A Marriage in High Life 20 

987 Romance of a Poor Young Man. ... 10 

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MOTTE FOUQUE 

711 Undine 10 

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760 Fair Women 20 

818 Once Again 20 

843 My Lord and My Lady 20 

844 Dolores 20 

850 My Hero 20 

859 Viva 20 

860 Omnia Vanitas 10 

&il D ana Carew 20 

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864 Roy and Viola 20 

865 June 20 

866 Mignon 20 

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LOVELL’S LIBRARY, 


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880 Life of Locke. . 10 

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856 Golden Bells 10 

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1 22 Ameline de Bourg 15 

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485 My Roses 20 

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116 The Lerouge Case 20 

120 Other People’s Money 20 

129 In Peril of His Life 20 

138 The Gilded Clique 20 

155 Mystery of Orcival 20 

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938 Captain Norton’s Diary IG 

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950 Under the Lilies and Roses 20 

951 Heart of Jane Warner 20 

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952 Love’s Conflict, Part II 20 

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954 Out of His Reckoning 10 

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990 Open Sesame 20 

991 Mad Dumare.sq 20 

999 Fighting the Air 20 

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328 How It All Came Round 20 

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331 Lucile 20 

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389 Paradise Lost 20 

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377 Life of Defoe 10 

BY MRS. MOLESWORTH 

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1033 Goethe and Schiller . 30 

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758 Cynic Fortune 10 

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773 Put Your-self in his Place 21' 

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914 A Terrible Temptation 2( 

915 Very Hard Cash 2( 

916 It is Never Too Late to Mend 2( 

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918 A Woman Hater 2( 

919 Beadiana 1( ! 

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16 Freckles 21 1 

408 The Brierfield Tragedy 21 

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699 Like Dian’s Kiss 2 

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101 Harry Holbrooke 2 


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159 Charlotte Temple 10 

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505 Crown of Wild Olives. 10 

510 Ethics of the Dust 10 

516 Queen of the Air 10 

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623 Unto this Last 10 

627 Munera Ehilveris 15 

637 “A Joy Forever” 15 

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677 Aratra Pentelici 15 

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668 St. Mark’s Rest 15 

670 Deucalion '...15 

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676 Eagle’s Nest 15 

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682 Proserpina 15 

685 Val d'Arno . . . 15 

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359 Lady of the Lake, with Notes. .... 20 

489 Bride of Lammermoor ..... 20 

490 Black Dwarf 10 

492 Castle Dangerous 15 

493 Legend of Montrose 15 

495 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

499 Heart of Mid-Lothian .30 

602 Waverley 20 

504 Fortunes of Nigel 20 

609 Peveril of the Peak 30 

615 The Pirate 20 

536 Poetical Works 40 

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551 W oodstock 20 

557 Count Robert of Paris 20 

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576 Quentin Durward 20 

581 The Talisman 20 

686 St. Ronan’s Well 20 

595 Anne of Geierstein 20 

606 Aunt Margaret’s Mirror 10 

607 Chronicles of the Canongate 15 

609 The Monastery 20 

620 Guy Mannering 20 

625 Kenilworth .’ 25 

629 The Antiquary 20 

632 Rob Roy 20 

635 The Betrothed 20 

638 Pair Maid of Perth 20 

641 Old Mortality 20 

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640 The Partisan .30 

648 Mellichampe 30 

6.53 The Yemassee 30 

657 Katherine Walton 30 

662 Southward Ho ! 30 

671 The Scout 30 

674 The Wigwam and Cabin 30 

677 Vasconselos .30 

680 Confession 30 

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768 Strange Case of Dr. JekyU and Mr. 

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769 Prince Otto 10 

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793 New Arabian Nights 20 

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320 The Rose and the Ring 10 

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166 20,01)0 Leagues Under the Sea . . . 20 1 

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614 At a High Price 20 

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857 A Wilful Young Woman. 20 

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967 The Three Bummers 20 

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19 Her Mother’s Sin, by B. M. Clay 25 

20 Other People’s Money, by Gaborlau.25 

21 Aiiy Fairy Lilian, by The Duchess.. 25 

22 In Peru of His Life, by Gaboriau 25 

23 The Old Mam’selle’s Secret, by E. A. 

Marlitt 25 

24 The Guilty River and The New Mag- 

dalen, by Wilkie Collins 25 

25 John Halifax, by Miss Mulock 25 

26 Marjorie, by B. M. Clay 25 

27 Lady Audley’s Secret, by Braddon. .25 

28 Peck’s Fun, by George W. Peck 25 

29 Thorns and Orange Blossoms, by B. 

M. Clay 25 

SO East Lynne, by Mrs. Wood 25 

31 King Solomon’s Mines, by Haggard..25 

82 The Witch’s Head, by Haggard 25 

S?. The Master Passion, byMarryat 25 

34 Jess, by H. Rider Haggard. . ..25 

35 Molly Bawn, by The Duchess 25 

36 Fair Women, by Mrs. Forrester 25 

37 The Merry Men,' by Stevenson 25 

38 Old Myddieton’s Money, by Hay. . . .25 

39 Mrs. Geoffrey, by The Duchess 25 

40 Hypatia, by Rev. Charles Kingsley. .25 

41 What Would You Do Love ? 25 

42 Eli Perkins, Wit, Humor, and Pathos.25 


43 Heart and Science, by Collins 25 

44 Baled Hay, by Bill Nye 25 

45 Harry Lorrequer, Ijy Lever 25 

46 Called Back and Dai k Days, by Hugh 

Conway 25 

47 Endymion, by Benjamin Disraeli....25 

43 Claribel’s Love Story, by B. M. Clay. 25 
49 Forty Liars, by Bill Nye 25 

60 Dawn, byH. Rider Haggard 25 

61 Shadow of a Sin, and Wedded and 

Parted, by B. M. Clay 25 

62 "Wee Wifie, by Rosa N. Carey 25 

63 The Dead Secret, by Collins 25 

54 Count of Monte Cristo, by Dumas... 50 

65 The Wandering Jew, by Sue 50 

56 The Mysteries of Paris, by Sue 50 

67 Middlemarch, by George Eliot 60 

58 Scottish Chiefs, by Jane Porter 60 

59 Under Two Flags, by Ouida 60 

60 David Copperfield, by Dickens — 50 

61 Monsieur Lecoq, by Gaboriau 60 

62 Springhaven, by R. D. Blackmore. ..25 

63 Speeches of Henry Ward Beecher on 

the War 50 

64 A Tramp Actor 25 

65 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, by 

Jules Verne 25 

66 Tour of the World in 80 Days, by 

Jules Verne 25 

67 The Golden Hope, by Russell 25 

68 Oliver Twist, by Dickens 25 

69 Lovell’s Whim, by Shirley Smith 25 

70 Allan Quatermaln, by Haggard.. .26 

71 The Great Hesper, by Frank i3arrett.25 

72 As in a Looking Glass, by F. C. 

Philips 25 

73 This Man’s Wife, by G. M. Fenn — 25 

74 Sabina Zembra, by Wm. Black 25 

75 The Bag of Diamonds, byG.M. Fenn.25 

76 £10,000, by T. E. Willson 25 

77 Red Spider, by S. Barlng-Gould 25 

78 On the Scent, by Lady Margaret 

Majendie 25 

79 Beforehand, by T. L. Meade 25 

80 The Dean and his Daughter, by the 

author of “As in a Looking Glass. ”25 

81 A Modern Circe, by The Duchess — 25 
62 Scheherazade, by Florence Warden.25 
83 “ The Duchess,” by The Duchess.. . .25 


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1002 To Call Her Mine, by W. Besant.20 

1003 Tbe Haunted Hotel, by W. Collins. 10 

1004 Tbis Man's Wife, by G. M. Fenn. . 20 

1005 Next of Kin -Wanted, by M. Beth- . 

am-Edwards 20 

1006 A Daugiiter of tbe People, by 

Georgiana M. CraiK: 20 

1007 Hedeemed by Love, by B. M. Clay.20 
lOdS Marrying and Giving in Marriage, 

by Mrs. Moleswortn 10 

1009 Tire Great Hesper, by F. Barrett.. 20 

1010 Mrs. Gregory, by Agnes Ray 20 

1011 Pirates of tlie Prairies, by Aimard.10 

1012 Tire Squire’s Darling, by Clay... 10 

1013 The Mystery of Colde Fell, by Clay.20 

1014 Tbe Daughter of an Empress, by 

Louisa Mdblbacb. 30 

1015 Pemberton, by Henry Peterson... 30 

1016 Taras Bulba, by Nikolai V. Gogol.. 20 

1017 A Vital C^uestion, by Nikolai G. 

Tchernuisbevsky 30 

1018 Tbe Condemned Door, by F. du 

Boisgobey 20 

1019 Soeur Louise (Louise de Bruneval)20 
1()20 Allan Quatermain, by Haggard. . . 20 

1021 Tbe Trapper’s Daughter, by 

Gustave Airaard 10 

1022 Good-Bye, Sweetheart, by Rhoda 

Broughton . 20 

1023 Red as a Rose is She, by Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

1024 Cometh up as a^FIower, by Rhoda 

Broughton . . . 20 

1025 Not Wisely, But Too Well, by . 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

1026 Nancy, by Rhoda Broughton 20 

1027 -Joan, by Rhoda Broughton. 20 

1028 A Near Relation, by Coleridge 20 

1029 Brenda Yorke, by Mary Cecil Hay. 10 

1030 On Her Wedding Morn, by Clay. . 10 

1031 The Shattered Idol, by B. M. Clay. 10 

1032 The Tiger Slayer, by G. Aimard..l0 

1033 Letty Leigh, by Bertha M. Clay. .,10 

1034 Mary Anerley.by R. D. Blackmore.20 

1035 Alice Lorraine, by Blackmore 20 

1036 Christowell, byR. D. Blackmore.. 20 

1037 Clara Vaughan, by Blackmore 20 

1038 Gripps, the Carrier, by Blackmore. 20 

1039 Remarkable Historyof Sir Thomas 

ITpmore, by R. D. Blackmore. . .20 

1040 Erema; or, My Father’s Sin, by 

R. D. Blackmore 20 

1041 The Mystery of the Holly Tree, by 

Bertha M. Clay 10 

1042 The Earl's Error, by B. M. Clay. .10 

1043 Arnold's Promise, by B. M, Clay.. 10 

1044 Forging the Fetter8,by Alexander.lO 

1045 The Trappers of Arkansas, by 

Gustave Aimard 10 


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1046 Cornin’ thro’ the Rye, by Mathers. 20 

1047 Sara’s Sweetheart, by Mathers — 20 

1048 Story of a Sin. by H. 'B, Mathers.. 20 

1049 Cherry Ripe, by H. B Mathers. . .20 

1050 My Lady Green Sleeves, Mathers.. 20 

1051 An Unnatural Bondage, by Clay. .10 

1052 Border Rifles, by Gustave Aimard.lQ 

1053 Gold Elsie, by E Mailitt 20 

1054 Goethe and Schiller, by Miihlbach.SO 

1055 Ml’. Smith, by L B. Walford. . . .20 

1056 The Historyof a W eek,by Walford.lO 

1057 The Baby’s Grandmother, by L. B. 

Walford 20 

1058 Troublesome Daughters, by L. B. 

Walford 20 

1059 Cousins, by L. B. Walford 20 

1060 The Bag of Diamonds, by Fenn. .20 

1061 Red Spider, by S. Barirsg-Gould. 20 

1062 Dick’s Wandering, by J. Sturgis.. 20 

1063 The Freebooters, by G. Aimard... 10 

1064 The Duke’s Secret, by B. M. Clay.20 

1065 A Modern Circe, by The Duchess. 20 

1066 An American Journey, by Aveling.30 

1067 Geoffrey Moncton, by S. Moodie..30 

1068 Flora Lyndsay, by S. Moodie 20 

1069 The White Scalper, by G. Aimard.10 

1070 Confessions of an English Opium 

Eater, by Thomas de Q,uiDcey...20 

1071 Guide of the Desert, by Aimard.. 10 

1072 “ The Duchess,” by The Duchess 20 

1073 Scheherazade, by F. Warden 20 

1074 Roughing it in the Bush, by Su- 

sanna Moodie 20 

.1075 The Insurgent Chief, by Aimard. .10 
1076 Life in the Backwoods, by Moodie. 20 
lOTT Jim the Parson, by E. B. Benjamin. 20 

1078 Tax the Area, by Kempe¥Bocock.20 

1079 The Flying Horseman, by Aimard.10 

1080 The Blue Veil; or, The Ciime of 

the Tower, by F. dn Boisgobey. .20 

1081 Last of the Ancas, by Aimard 10 

1082 Strange Adventures of Lucy 

Smith, by F. C. Philips 20 

1083 As in a Looking Glass, by Philips.20 

1084 The Dean and his Daughter, by 

F. C. Philips 20 

1085 Life in the Clearings, by Moodie . . 20 

1086 Missouri Outlaws, by Aimard 10 

1087 The Frozen Pirate, by Russell. . , .20 

1088 Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, 

Pt. I, by Goethe, translated by 

Carlyle 20 

Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, 
Pt. 11, by Goethe, translated by 
Carlyle 20 

1089 Prairie Flower, by Aimard 10 

1090 Wilbelm Meister’s Travels, by 

Goethe, translated by Carlyle 20 

1091 Queen Hortense, by L. Muhibach.30 


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THE 


STRANGE ADYENTURES 

OF 

LUCY SMITH 



FfCe PHILIPS 

AtfTHOR OF * AS IN A LOOKING-GLASS,’ ‘A LUCKY YOUNG WOMAN,’ 
’jack and TBREK JILLS,’ ’THE DEAN AND HIS 
DAUGHTER,’ BTC. 

.'V, ■ ■" 1 



KEW YORK 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 


14 and 16 VESEt Street 


VZ3 


tftOW'8 

•f^»NTlNG fND BOOKBINDING COM)>AHV, 
NSW YORK, 


TO 

F. C. GKOVE 

THIS STORY IS DEDICATED 
BY HIS FRIEND 

* 

THE AUTHOR 


''TO aa[a:uTKaYaA sozAJiTa sht 
. ■ . ' ■ .HTllfa. YbtFJ - • 





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kf: eijl .o-ga^icra 
srfb. Jo Tofessi viijnife'xo oi 


os'uU nx alo^/oo Id lo ^e'xoqi^q eliJ Jo- ^aotriiT^ 

I ^rjTt XXOV‘?AtX-rJ , 1 c ba.;> 0 rf'^txbv :9 ajgj 
:^'y'jod- X. .m, .Mfijob oixi 

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ll^j ^ ■'■ ^ d:.L:-sY|-ff J i:T>; e-B 0i;;A^ tl.^f ^ 

'V ^ -vJ - 



THE STEAHGE ADYENTIJEES OE 


LUCY SMITH. 


LUCY SMITH’S NARRATIVE, 


CHAPTER I. 

The story which I have to tell is more than 
strange. It is so terrible, so incredible, so entirely 
contrary to all that any ordinary reader of the 
‘Times,’ or the penny papers^ or of novels in three 
volumes, has ever heard of, that even now I have 
some doubt in telling- it. I happen, however, to 
know that it is true. .My husband, one of the few 
persons besides myself acquainted with it — for theie 
were but five in all who knew all its details— is as 
confident that it is true as am I myself. So, after 
al], I need have little hesitation in giving- my recol- 
lections of what happened. 

My early life was uneventful and peaceful. Of my 
parents I have the dimmest memory ; they died when 
I was a girl in words of three letters, frocks to the 
knees, infantine socks, and little shoes fastened with 


B ^ Adventures of Lucy Smith 

two straps and a button. There must have been 
something about their history — it could not possibly 
have been about mine — which had made their friends 
and relations angry. What it was I do not know to 
this day, nor have I ever been able to find out. I 
know that we. lived in Croydon; and I have often 
hunted the Croydon streets to try and find our 
house, but have never succeeded. 

Thus, then, the thread of my life practically begins 
when I found myself at a school, where I was just 
encouraged to persevere with my reading and 
taught to be good, to say my prayers, to alwa^^s 
answer a question by ‘Yes, please,’ or ‘No, thank 
you,’ and never to touch the slightest object, even 
a daisy on the lawn, without special permission 
first obtained. 

I suppose I must have been a patient little child, 
for I did not resent this existence. I did not sneak 
out at the back door and try to run away into 
the world that lay beyond it ; nor did I feel any 
wish that bears and wolves and lions might come 
and eat me. It suppose on the whole I was com- 
fortable. I was never hungry; I was never cold 
at nights for want of sufficient bedding, and my 
chastisements never went beyond a sharp word, 
always atoned for very shortly after by a kiss and a 
reconciliation. 

So time went on until I had developed to ver^^ 
nearly my full height, and began to feel strange 
fancies and wants within me which I could not 
fathom for myself. Why did I never go home like 
the other girls ? Why did I never get any letters 


Lucy Smith's Narrative 


9 


or presents? Why did I know nothing whatever 
about myself beyond the fact of my own existence 
and surroundings ? 

• I sat one day on a hot Saturday afternoon pon- 
dering these things under an old treedn a walled 
meadow at the back of our house. The more I pon- 
dered, the more exasperated I got, and I resolved 
that I would have matters out. So next morning I 
prepared myself for the fray, and immediately after 
breakfast told the eldest Miss Silverton that I 
wanted to speak to her. 

Miss Silverton started, turned red, and then asked 
me abruptly and, for her, austerely, ‘ What about ? ’ 

‘ Nothing unpleasant between ourselves, dear Miss 
Silverton, but something- about myself which I think 
you ought to tell me, if you know it. I want you 
to tell me how I came here, and who I am, and who 
my people are — that is to say, if I have any.’ 

This long speech and an application to her smell- 
ing-bottle had enabled Miss Silverton to recover her 
composure. 

‘ My sister and I always meant to tell jmu every- 
thing some day,’ she said, ^but there is reall3^, my 
dear girl, ver^^ little to tell you. I will talk to my 
sister, and she shall remind me if I have forgotten 
anything ; and you shall know all we can tell you 
about yourself to-morrow morning. ' 

With this promise I was quite contented, for the 
little old lady was always as good as her word. 

Next morning after breakfast, when the cloth had 
been cleared and the maid had retired to the kitchen, 
the elder Miss Silverton produced a big bundle and 


10 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

placed it on the table. It smelt of lavender and of 
pepper, as bundles of preserved clotlies often do. 

^^But she had not any letters of any sort or even a 
Scrap of writing that I could see. 

‘You were brought here one day,’ commenced 
Miss Susannah, ‘ by a gentleman who said he Avas 
your father, though he in no w^ay resembled you ; 
for you have a fair complexion, w^hile he was almost 
swarthy. He said he wanted us to take you as a 
pupil. My sister and I demurred to receive you--- 
did we not, Dorcas ? — on the most intelligible ground 
that you were far below" the lowest limit of age men- 
tioned in our prospectus, and fixed by the rules of 
our institution.’ Dorcas bow-ed a grave assent, and 
Susannah continued. 

‘ The gentleman, however — for his speech, appear- 
ance, and bearing w-ere those of a gentleman- 
pressed liis point. He had to leave next morning 
for Vienna. How could he possibly take you with 
him? He would want a skilled nurse. Besides, ho 
had to travel night and day. Money was no object 
to him. And with this, my dear, he brought out a 
canvas bag full of sovereigns, which he said con- 
tained two hundred. “ That will keep her with you 
for a few years, at any rate,” he said. “ Look how 
I trust you. Not but what I have heard good of 
you ; but I trust you implicitly. I shall leave this 
child with you because I am sure you will do your 
best to compensate her for the unhappy want of a 
mother. I leave the money with you because I was 
assured you were honorable, and now that I have 
seen you am certain of it. I cannot continue the 


Lucy Smith's Narrative 11 

discussion, ladies. Will you take the child on these 
terms or not ? ’’ 

‘ We considered tog-ether for a minute, and re- 
plied that we would take you. He did not answer,, 
after the fashion of a roturier, that he had thought 
we would, or that he was glad we saw it in a practi- 
cal light, or anything of that kind. He said he was 
very much obliged to us indeed, and that we had 
taken a great weight off his mind. And he then 
bowed and went away in his fly to the station. And 
-when the London train was about to start he got 
into it. It seems he had brought you down from 
London. And that, my poor dear child, is every- 
thing tl'at we can tell you. We hunted through 
your little wardrobe high and low, but there was not 
a mark, not so much as an initial upon a single 
thing’. They had all been cut out with a sharp pair 
of scissors.^ 

I turned a bitterl^^ disappointed face down to the 
worn old carpet. I felt acutely that I must be the 
child of disgrace, whose shameful identity must be 
kept a profound secret. The two sisters with their 
kind little hearts — I use the word ‘ little ’ as a dimin- 
utive of tenderness, for the two dear good souls were . 
full of infinite charity and tenderness — soon came to 
the end of what they must have felt was a disagree- 
able story for me to hear. ‘ We can tell 3 mu no 
more, my dear,’ said Miss Dorcas. ‘ You remained 
with us. He had told us that we were to call ^mu 
Lucy Smith. Of course we did not believe that that 
was 3 mur real name, for why cut a simple name like 
Luc}^ Smith out of all your things ? The mone^^ he 


12 


Adventu7'es of Lucy Smith 


left must have lasted very much long*er than he had 
ever expected. You have no idea ’ — and here the 
old lady assumed the solemn look of one imparting- 
a trade secret — ‘ how cheap it is to keep a good little 
girl. Else we schoolmistresses should never live. 
Girls are not like hoys. They do not wear out 
their boots, and tear their clothes, and ink their 
linen. They can do with a very little meat. 
They do not turn up their noses at bread and milk 
for breakfast. They do not break the windows, or 
the plates and dishes. Long before all jmur money 
had been spent, my dear, we had got to consider 
you as a sort of adopted child of our own, who would 
grow up and help us, and be a comfort to us, and a 
companion, as you have done. There is a little of it 
left still. For the moment you began to be useful 
to us we considered that we ought not to take any- 
thing for keeping you. That little we have kept for 
you should you ever come to leave us, which we 
hope you won’t; and for the matter of that, it is 
yours at this minute if you would like it.’ 

I looked at both sisters, and saw by their quiet, 
grave, earnest faces that they had told me the truth, 
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so far 
as they knew it. Then we all three had a cry. 
Then we kissed one another all round a number of 
times. And then Ave sponged our e 3 "es Avith cold 
water and went out for a walk in the lanes. From 
that day and from that hour my historj^ Avas never 
again alluded to ; but I felt that somehoAV the clearing 
of mg^tters up — if so it can be called — had strength- 
ened our friendship. So I AA^ent on as a ' pupil- 


Lucy Smith'' s Narrative 


13 


teaclier,’ gradually developing into an ' under-mis- 
tress ’ at the Miss Silvertons’ select academy for 
young ladies, where the pupils were so select that 
the daughter of a tradesman was on no account re- 
ceived, even upon mutual terms of the most advan- 
tageous kind. 


u 


Adventures of Jjucy Smith 


CHAPTER II. 

When I was about seventeen, tall and strong for 
my age, with great lumps of heavy hair of which I 
was proud, the Miss Silvertons used to tell me that 
I looked more like three or four and twenty than my 
real age, and it only needed a glance in my glass to 
enable me to see for myself that they were perfectly 
correct. 

One morning during vacation we were sitting as 
usual in the garden after our mid-day dinner, under 
the shadow of the old walnut tree, with a little table 
between us to hold our pretences of industry, such 
as books or crochet or needlework. It was a hot, 
dreamy day, and the air was alive with the murmur 
of insects. The swallows were dashing about over- 
head, and every now and again some huge dragon- 
fly would rustle by like a .flash of living light. I 
certainly did not feel in an argumentative mood, but 
rather disposed to enjoy the sweet idleness of doing 
nothing, which is never so pleasant as when it has 
been deserved. I was therefore unpleasantly aroused 
from my mid-day dreams when Miss Susannah, 
speaking for herself and her sister, intimated that 
she had something important to say to me. It was 
a dut}^, however, to listen, and listen I did, feeling 
sure that whatever I might have to hear would be 
meant in all kindness. 


Lucy SmiWs Narrative 15 

Miss Susannah beg*an by remarking* that she and 
her sister were getting* advanced in years, and if not 
as yet unfit for W 9 rk, at any rate indisposed for it. 
They intended to retire, and sell the school as a go- 
ing concern, and had fixed on Bognor as their future 
home. Of course there was no doubt that the new 
purchaser, whoever she might be, would be glad to 
avail herself of my services, not merely for their 
actual value, but for the reason that I should be a 
link in the connection between the pupils, whom of 
course I knew, and themselves as incomers. But, 
on tlie whole, they recommended me to leave. 1 
could soon get another engagement. Governesses 
who had been in a boarding school for the whole of 
their life were rare, and, in fact, jumped at. And 
Miss Boreas actually indulged in the violent expres- 
sion, ‘ But if rolling stones gather no moss, neither 
do stones buried out of sight ; ’ and that for her 
part she considered a little motion and change good 
for young people, if not essential to them. 

This was the substance of what they had to sa^^ 
Tliere was nothing to cry over. It was all very 
simple. Our leave-taking would be a happy one : 
we should remain the best of friends, correspond 
regularly, and join our forces every now and again 
in the holidays, so that old memories might not 
drop. I saw the wisdom of what they said, and 
acquiesced. 

‘ And now, my dear,’ said Miss Dorcas, ' I will tell 
you what we are going to do. We have no aflec- 
tion for the old furniture here, or for anything in the 
house, and our man of business has ad vised us to sell 


IG Adventures of Lucy Smith 

the thing, as he called it, ‘^lock, stock, _and barrel,'’ 
which means, we found, including all the household 
furniture and effects. Of course he is right. What 
shall we want with cups and saucers, and plates, 
and knives and forks, for thirty people or more ? 
The very idea is ridiculous. At an auction they 
would fetch nothing, but to the incomer they wiil 
be useful. W^’e shan’t even take away our old grand 
piano. What shall we want with a grand piano ? 
It would fill up our room. We shall buy a little 
cottage. So we shall just go out with our boxes 
and our own books, and a little plate and a few 
knick-knacks, and settle down together to end our 
da^^s.’ 

‘ We’ve got the most charming little house at 
Bognor,’ said Miss Susannah. ‘ It doesn’t face the sea, 
but that’s an advantage when you live there all the 
year round. I’m sure I don’t want my windows blown 
in. We looked at the photographs of it first, and 
then we went down and took it at once. We shall 
furnish there, and try to be a little more bright and 
cheerful than our dull old rooms here are. Now that’s 
just all about it, and what we have to say to you is 
this : we don’t want you to stop with us for ever. Of 
course you must go out into the world again. That’s 
the law of life. But we want you always to consider 
our house as your home. Stop with us while you are 
looking out for an engagement. Stop with us during 
your vacations. We have no relations in the world, 
and w^e have always considered you more or less as 
our own daughter — the daughter of both of us, I 
mean, of course,’ said the good lady, almost colour- 


L/ucy Smithes Narrative 1? 

ing’ at the impropriety of her own remark. ‘ hTow, 
don’t let’s talk any more about it to-day, but tell us 
to-morrow at breakfast, like a dear good girl, that 
you are going to do what we wish.’ 

‘ I shall tell you so to-morrow,’ I answered firmly. 
‘ In fact, I’m quite ready to tell you so now ; but little 
pretences are sometimes pleasant and useful, so I’ll 
pretend to think the matter over with all my might 
and main until to-morrow morning, and then give 
you an answer as solemnly weighed and as carefully 
set out as a Saturday afternoon essay.’ 

Then we laughed and laid aside our work, and be- 
gan to stroll about on the lawn to and fro under the 
trees. 

I did not lie awake into the middle of the night con- 
sidering the matter, as, I suppose, I ought to have 
done if I had been wordly-minded. Neither did I in 
any way, formal or otherwise, implore any Divine 
light to guide m^^ steps through uncertainty. The 
whole thing was so charmingly certain and simple 
in itself. It was only the little pretence ,of delibera- 
tion that had to be kept up. 

Look at the difference between men and women 
shopping. A man knows the price that is asked. 
If he is indisposed to pay it he offers less. Perhaps 
his offer is accepted. Perhaps by mutual consent the 
arrangement is come to popularly known as splitting 
the difference. At all events, the affair is a matter 
of a few seconds. A woman will haggle for half an 
hour over a couple of yards of ribbon. She gains 
nothing by it, for the tradesman knows beforehand 


18 


Adventures of JL/ucy Smith 


exactl}^ what he means to take, and sticks fi^ty per 
cent, on to it. She talks him down this fifty per cent, 
with infinite protestation on his own part, and g*oes 
away thinking- she has outwitted him. There never 
but once was a woman of business. That was the 
Sibyl who sold the Roman king- the Sibylline books ; 
but she was something- more than human, which or- 
dinary women certainly are not. So next morning- 
after our egg and bread and butter, and watercress 
and tea, with on this occasion, and in honour of its 
importance, shrimps and marmalade as hors-d'oeu- 
vres, I was solemnly asked m^’- decision. I answered, 
with a brief but emphatic expression of my g-ratitude 
for the motherl^^ care they had taken of me, that I 
did not like the idea of stopping- in the old house after 
they had left it; that new faces and a new order of 
things would jar painfully upon old memories ; that 
I should endeavour to get a situation as governess, 
and that b}^ way of change I should try for a place 
in a family. 

I was quite aware, I said, of the differences between 
a family and a school. At a school you had simply to 
do 3^our work and to keep the rules. In a family’- you 
had to deal with all kinds of personal peculiarities, 
difficulties, and prejudices. As a governess in a school 
you had a recognised position. As a governess in a 
family your salary- was less than the wages of the 
cook and the lady’s-maid, and you were a sort of in- 
terloper, neither belonging to the domestic circle nor 
yet strictly excluded from it. 

But I was 3mung, and I should try the family, if 
it was only to see what it was like. 


Lucy Bmith^s Narrative 19 

^ You are quite right, my dear,’ said Miss Susan- 
nah. ‘Very early in life I myself determined that I 
would gain a thorough knowledge of the world so 
far as I possibly could. I acted upon this determi- 
nation,’ continued the old lady emphatically, with 
the same resolution as that with which I had formed 
it, and I have always found the knowledge which 
I thus acquired of the very greatest service to 
me.’ 

The dear old lady firmly believed in her own mind 
that she was speaking the words not of wisdom only, 
but of wisdom and truth. Beyond checking the 
butcher’s bill, and knowing to a penny the state of 
the joint finances of the establishment, she was as 
ignorant of the world as a butterfly on the first day 
of its existence, and as innocent. 

Miss Dorcas, to use judicial phraseology, entirel 3 ^ 
concurred. She had, she said, always been content 
to be guided by her sister’s opinion, which she was 
gratified to add had always been identical, except in 
mere matters of detail, with the opinion she should 
have formed for herself if she had been asked to do 
so. Her sister had shrewd common sense, while she 
herself was, she felt bound to admit, somewhat 
dreamy, and in fact a bit of a bookworm. But she 
flattered herself that when she brought her mind to 
bear on practical matters it was free from bias ; and 
she added in conclusion that she too had loved me as 
a daughter, and now that I was growing up began 
to feel that she loved me as a sister. I was always 
to consider their home my home, and I was to recol- 
lect — and here her voice quavered a little — that they 


20 


Adventures of Iniey Smith 


had no relations in the world whom they had seen 
or communicated with for many years. 

‘ We commenced as poor g-overnesses together, my 
dear, and we worked always cheerfully, and some- 
times, if I may say so, even a little hit harder perhaps 
than other people do, or than we needed to do our- 
selves. But we liked work ; and I remember a very 
great doctor down in the West telling me that the 
brain wants regular exercise every day just as much 
as the body. So I asked him whether he meant that 
I was to do a bit of work every day — say a chapter 
of Hallam’s Constitutional History,’’ or of some- 
thing of that sort. He laughed at me, and said I 
was to read exactly what I liked, just as I was to 
eat and drink exactly what I liked. “ Only,” he 
added, you mustn’t fancy that a morbid craving is 
a genuine liking. Take wholesome literature ex- 
actly as you take wholesome food.” He was a very 
clever man, and I am quite sure that by obeying 
him I have added a certain number of years to my 
life. 

‘ So,’ she concluded, with a profound shake of the 
head, ‘ work, my dear, as long as you ever can, go 
on working at something which suits your strength, 
and keep on at it. There’s an old saying that all 
honest work is prayer, and is reckoned up as such ; 
and although I believe it isn’t a Protestant proverb, 
I am sure it’s as true as if it were.’ 

After this we did anything but pray, for we took 
a walk in the lanes, and spent the remainder of the 
day in doing nothing most systematically. Unless, 
indeed, it be hard work for three women who know 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 


21 


nothing* of the subject to discuss whether, without 
permanently^ maintaining a man-servant but retain- 
ing a big boy for two hours a day, you can afford to 
keep pigs, and poultry^, and pigeons, and bees. As 
we none of us knew any^thing on these points, and 
could only conjecture, we arrived at last at the state 
described by Leech in one of his best sketches as 
‘ metaphysics,’ which is that of a man talking about 
what he does not understand to another man who 
does not understand what he means. 

So we ultimately dropped out of the discussion, or 
of its own accord it dropped us out of it, and we be- 
gan to chat pleasantly about such soap-bubbles as 
interested all of us. 


Adventures of Lnicy Smith 


CHAPTER III. 

So, as we had agreed, we dul^^ inserted an adver- 
tisement in the ^ Times ’ and in the ‘ Morning Post,’ 
setting out my qualifications at my age, and art- 
fully stating that I had been in the same school as 
pupil, pupil-teacher, and salaried assistant for the 
whole of my life. This kind of thing goes straight 
to the heart of the British matron, her first double- 
barrelled question always being, ^ How long were 
you in your last situation, and why did you leave 

it?.’ 

I got any number of answers. Some of them were 
evidently ‘ fishing ’ and tentative ; some seemed to 
have been written out of mere wantonness. Others 
were preposterous. Let me give an illustration. 

The wife of the country squire in Essex wrote to 
me. There were six girls ranging from sixteen dowm- 
wards and a boy of fifteen whom I should have to 
‘keep up’ in his Latin, French, arithmetic, and ele- 
mentary algebra during the time that he was home 
for the holidays. I should be required to take my 
meals in the day nurseiy with the head nurse, wtio 
was quite a lad}", and the children. If I had any 
High Church proclivities, they would be considered 
an absolute bar. ’ Each year that the family went to 
the sea-side, which was usually every other year, I 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


2 ; 


could have a holiday during their ahsence. In fact, 
they would prefer that I should do so, as it would be 
more desirable for many reasons. My salary was 
to be ten pounds a year, payable quarterly. 

I give this as a specimen of the meanness of which 
some English ladies can be capable when they think 
they are not likely to be found out. And 3^et we 
emancipated the slaves, the bulk of whom upon a 
poll would have proved far more happy, free, and 
independent than any English governess. 

But amongst the letters I at last found one that I 
liked. It came from a country solicitor in a large 
country town . It stated the number of his daughters 
(four), their ages (varying from thirteen to six), the 
exact subjects he required taught, and the exact sal- 
ary he was prepared to give. And he then added that 
the family always .went away for at least a month in 
the year, that I should not be required to go with 
them, that they would prefer that I did not stay in 
the house, and that I should receive an extra pound 
a week while they were away, fractions of a week to 
count as a whole. 

Here evidently was a cool-headed man of business. 
I answered his letter most entirely in his own spirit, 
and within four days I was under Mr. Bulbrooke’s 
roof. 

I caq dismiss the Bulbrookes very briefly, as I 
staj^ed with them a very little time. Mrs. Bulbrooke 
was fussy, flabby, and fidgety, both mentally and 
physically. Mr. Bulbrooke must certainl}^ have had 
more force of manner than of character, or else he 
was a ‘mute inglorious’ Eldon. He always spoke 


24 


Adventures of Lnicy Smith 


at the top of his voice. He would bellow for a ser- 
vant he wanted as if he or she were three miles out 
in the adjacent parish. He had hig-hly polished boots, 
a bald head, a round red face, sand^^ whiskers, a thick 
neck, and an obtrusive manner. 

There is, I believe, a dilemma sometimes put by 
young men to their fellows of less acuteness than 
themselves : W ould you sooner be a bigger fool than 
you look, or look a bigger fool than you are ? I think 
Mr. Bulbrooke was not such a bully as he appeared. 
His manner was partly assumptive and partly habit. 
He found it useful. Indeed, I can quite believe him 
capable of having done many kind acts in secret, and 
being ready to do more ; but his manner was what 
old ladies in Lincolnshire call ‘rampagious.’ 

As for the children, I can easily sum them up. 
They were very much afraid of their father ; they 
were serenely indifferent to their mother; they 
had no little vices or meannesses. But they were 
beyond doubt hopelessly slow-witted, if not in fact 
absolutely stupid. 

The days went by. Mrs. Bulbrooke murmured 
her approval of my assiduity. Her husband used 
to shake hands with me every morning and evening, 
and incline his head without removing his hat if we 
encountered one another in the daytime. I had a 
sufficiently good bedroom, which was thoughtfully 
provided with small hanging shelves, a little writing- 
desk, and a dwarf easy chair. The Bulbrookes were 
not parsimonious or even close in details. And I 
was never remonstrated with on the number of com- 
posite candles I consumed, or warned against the 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 


25 


danger of reading in bed. When off duty I was as 
much my own mistress as I should have been in my 
own house. 

I have described my surroundings. In doing so I 
have described my life ; for each day the wheel went 
round and made one revolution, and each day was 
exactly like its fellows that had preceded it. The 
real fact is that physically I had nothing to wish for, 
nor any comforts which I missed, but that for the rest 
I was entirely thrown upon my own resources. 

At last came the time for the annual exodus to the 
sea-side, and I had my business interview with the 
master of the house, who by this time had begun to 
treat me somewhat as a lesser confidante. He had, 
he said, with his curious mixture of frankness, warm- 
heartedness, and swagger and bluster, done an un- 
commonly good thing. He had piloted a large Rail- 
way Bill and a Canal Bill in connection with it through 
the committee of each House. 

I did not know what he meant, but of course I un- 
derstood that he had been doing prosperously. He 
was consequently, he said, going to take a longer 
holiday than usual, and he felt himself entitled to it. 
They were going to do Paris, Switzerland, Venice, 
and any other place that might suggest itself. I was 
to consider myself free for three clear months. He 
should pick up a high-class honne, and have the 
children taught to speak French colloquially, so that 
thej^ would not be exactly losing time. 

For myself, he begged to hand me a cheque for my 
salary in advance for the three months in question, 
at the end of which time he and Mrs. Bulbrooke 


26 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

would expect to find me at my post or to hear from 
me. , 

Then he shook hands, gave me an open envelope 
with an enclosure, and departedi He had been better 
than his word. The cheque was for twenty pounds 
more than m^^ salary ; and pinned to it was a piece 
of paper with the terse remark in his own handwrit- 
ing, ‘ Never mind the difference. You have deserved 
a good holiday, and will find a holiday more expen- 
sive than you think.’’ 

I had the tact, of course, not to hunt my employer 
out and thank him personally, but I wrote him a let- 
ter which I tried to make sufficiently business-like in 
its tone without losing a single tinge of the shade of 
gratitude which I felt was distinctly due to him. 
I took care to make certain that this was delivered, 
for I looked over the banisters and saw it done. 

Next day the whole family set off immediately 
after breakfast, and I was left to myself. I packed 
my boxes, bestowed my little presents upon those of 
the servants with whom I had to do, ordered a fly, 
and was driven straight to the station. 

Arrived in London, I put up with some trepidation 
at the Charing Cross Hotel — a tremendous caravan- 
serai with an infinite number of rooms that fairly 
bewildered me. I had seen these big places before, 
but had never until now crossed their portals ; and I 
had heard of a lift and understood the principle of it, 
but had never before ascended or descended in one. 
It was as new an experience for me as a journey in a 
balloon. 

One thing struck me as most business-like and 


Lucy Smithes Narrative 


27 


sensible : the price of everything was fixed up ever3^- 
where, even to the length of placing over your bed- 
room mantelpiece a card denoting the daily charge 
for your room, and warning you that unless you 
gave notice before noon you would be charged for 
an additional day. 

I thus felt more at my ease than I probably should 
have done in a place where I did not know how my 
money might be going. And I found also that there 
was an immense drawing-room or ladies’ room, with 
a piano, and easy chairs, and writing materials, and 
the illustrated papers, and a few novels for those 
who might want them ; so that I should have been 
comfortable enough if I had not been a little lonely. 

I did not dream of going to the theatre, which I 
felt would be hardly decorous for me to do alone. 
So I wrote to the two dear sisters, telling them I 
was coming down to Bognor to see them, and I then 
took an omnibus to Hyde Park, where I walked 
about and admired the beauty of the scenery, or, to 
be more exact, of the artificial landscape making. 
Then I came back in the same fashion to Charing 
Cross, purchased ‘ The Last Chronicles of Barset,’ 
read till bedtime, and went to bed early. 

It was a comfort to have a little jet of gas in my 
room and candles on the mantelpiece, and other such 
things. The chamber was not like any in which I 
had ever slept, or which, indeed, I had ever seen 
before, but when I had locked my door and blown 
out the candles I felt quite secure with the gas jet 
alight. I had to clamber into bed, the proportions 
of the bedstead were so majestic, and for the first 


28 


Adventures of L/acy Smith 


time in my life fell asleep almost instantaneously, 
upon a spring mattress and under curtains — both of 
which things were entire novelties to me. A spring 
mattress may perhaps be a great temptation to you 
to lie in bed longer than you ought, but the sleep 
you get upon it is as different from that afforded by 
ordinary bedding as is the scent of moss roses from 
that of the little white creeping rose, which twines 
itself all about the veranda, and will even scale the 
walls like ivy up to the very eaves. 

Next morning I paid my bill at the bureau. It 
was correct to a penny, sufficiently moderate, and 
within a shilling or two of what I had expected it to 
be. I soon found myself in the train, armed with a 
newspaper and my novel; and before ‘The Last 
Chronicles of Barset ’ had come to an end — for I am 
by no means a quick reader — ^my few effects were on 
the platform at Bognor, and I was standing beside 
them and shaking hands with the two sisters. 


Lucy SniitNs Narrative 


29 


CHAPTER IV. 

My week at Bognor was delightful, and I myself 
would willingly have stopped there for the whole of 
the rest of my holiday, hut there were difficulties in 
the way which I had sufficient tact to perceive, and 
consequently to limit my stay to the time agreed 
upon. 

The sisters were getting older. They had acquired 
the habit of sitting together one on each side of the 
fire or the empty grate for hours at a time, doing 
nothing, and never even interchanging a word. 
They liked extremely earl^’' hours at night and 
somewhat late hours in the morning, but were par- 
ticularly anxious that this growing proclivity should 
not be noticed. Of course I could not help noticing 
it, although I said nothing, taking care to come 
down from my room at just their time, and to pro- 
fess myself abominably tired as soon as I saw them 
beginning to nod. 

Then matters were further complicated by the fact 
that Miss Susannah had, in the winter just passed, 
had a smart attack of rheumatism, which had left 
her joints extremely tender, not to say sensitive; 
while Miss Dorcas had grown very deaf, and was 
irritated at not being able to conceal the fact. 

So I certainly had no temptation to protract my 


30 Adventures of I/ucy Smith 

visit, and we parted with the most honestly sincere 
affection on each side, I am sure, hut at the same 
time with a certain feeling- of relief that, under all 
the circumstances, was not at all to he unexpected. 

I was surprised one morning, my holiday having 
scarcely begun, to receive a letter from Mr. Bul- 
hrooke. It was characteristic. He began cordially 
with a number of inquiries about myself. Then he 
told me as much as he knew about the family, which 
was, to put it mildly, very little. Having thus made 
it impossible to suppose that he had any fault or 
complaint to allege against myself, he plunged into 
business. 

Mrs. Bulbrooke, it seemed, had developed asthma, 
or some other permanent affection of the lungs and 
chest. She was becoming what the French term 
poitrinaire, without being in any positive danger. 
The physicians had recommended permanent resi- 
dence at Mentone, and he had taken a villa there. 
He added that there was a large finishing school 
within a few 3^ards of the villa, to which of course it 
would be convenient that the girls should go, and so, 
by associating with other girls their own age, pick 
up French colloquially, even if it might not be the 
French of Fenelon. 

Under the circumstances I was to consider my 
engagement at an end. But he enclosed a cheque in 
lieu of six months’ notice (it was a hundred guineas 
beyond that amount), and I was always to consider 
myself an old and esteemed friend of the family, and 
never to lose a chance of seeing them if I could pos- 
sibly manage it in any way. He enclosed any num- 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 


31 


ber of photographs of himself and Mrs. Bulbrooke 
and the children, and he concluded in a manner that 
made me somehow feel as if he had slapped me vig- 
orously between the shoulder-blades, and shouted 
out, ‘ Good cheer, my hearty, and good luck to you.’ 

I telegraphed with business-like promptitude to 
acknowledge his letter and to thank him, and next 
day I wrote a sufficiently long and friendly farewell, 
together with a special letter to one of the girls, who 
had always liked me, or seemed to like m^ more 
than did her colourless sisters. And herewSh, for 
all real purposes of m3" story, ends the chapter of 
my connection with the house of Bulbrooke. 

I had picked up enough of business from the occa- 
sional words of wisdom dropped by Mr. Bulbrooke 
to know that money is always safer in a bank than 
about your own person, so I resolved when I went to 
London to find out a bank, and put my little wind- 
fall, which to me seemed a fortune, into it. Mean- 
time I lingered, not unnaturally, over m3^ departure 
from the sisters. 

It is always painful, or, in ordinary parlance, a 
wrench, to leave people whom 3"ou like, and who like 
you, especially when your habits and tastes are 
almost identical. But things have to be done, and 
up to London I went. And I now wish to point out 
how, acting as I thought wisety, I in reality increased 
my difficulties in the terribly sharp trial through 
which I was about to pass. 

Having no experience of lodgings, and entertain- 
ing, from all I had heard, a mistrust of landladies, I 


32 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

returned to my old quarters at the Charing Cross 
Hotel, and the next morning went up the Bank of 
England, where Mr. Bulhrooke kept his private ac- 
count, hy way of showing the world that he always 
had a large current balance, and was above wanting 
interest on it. There I converted his cheque into 
crisp notes of five pounds each, with five pounds in 
gold. 

Then, feeling as independent as if, like the ad- 
vanced lady thinkers of these modern days, I had 
cut my hair short, wore square-toed lace-up boots, 
and generally affected an intensely masculine deport- 
ment, I made my way to Birch’s, of which Mr. Bul- 
brooke had told me — a funny little shop, half sunk 
into the ground. Some strange kind of exuberance 
of spirits seemed upon me. When I asked for a 
basin of soup, I almost expected to be told that they 
did not serve ladies, and was astonished to find that 
no demur was made. 

I had my first basin of turtle soup, and am bound 
to say I liked it, although I have since been told that 
I ought to have found it intensely unpleasant, as you 
find your first oyster, your first olive, medlar, cavi- 
are on toast, really high woodcock, strongly devilled 
kidneys, or, if you are of the other sex, your first 
attempt at tobacco. 

The turtle soup was a new experience. After it I 
had some marvellous little tartlets, about the size of 
half a crown, which I saw the gentlemen round about 
me come in and eat by the dozen, saying, when they 
had finished, ‘eight,’ ‘fourteen,’ or ‘five-and- 
twenty,’ as the case might be. I am not oxaggerat- 


iMcy Smith’s Narrative 


33 


ing, for these little tartlets seem to he rather the 
subtle aroma of pastry than the solid reality of it. 
To seriously talk of ‘ eating ’ them would be out of 
the question. And then I am almost ashamed to say 
I had a small glass of punch. I had heard Mr. Bul- 
brooke mention Birch’s punch with affection. It is 
extremely delicious, but I am quite positive that it 
in no way got into my head, for I walked all the 
way down from the Mansion House to St. Paul’s 
Churchyard, stopping to look in at the shop win^ws, 
and indulging in the cheap pleasure of making imag- 
inary purchases; and I know that my mind was 
perfectly clear, and that my face never flushed even 
for a second. 

I looked at the jewellers’ shops, and those of the 
printsellers and artists’ colourmen, and at the mer- 
cers with their magnificent silks, and the furriers 
with their costly jackets of sable trimmed with sable 
tail ; and I must again insist, at the risk of repe- 
tition, that I took a sane and absolutely sober 
interest in all I saw. 

I vralked down the Strand to the Charing Cross 
Hotel. It was now about half-past four, and the 
day was showing symptoms of closing in. I went 
to the bureau, and deposited there a proportion of 
my bank notes amounting to a hundred pounds. 
The balance I kept myself, meaning to make pur- 
chases the next da3^ Then, feeling thoroughly 
tired, I had a hot bath — one of the greatest luxuries 
in the world when you are at all physically fatigued, 
as Mr. Bulbrooke had once bluffly told me across 
the dinner table, and had been corroborated in the 


34 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


statement by bis wife, after a mild preliminary re- 
buke for the indelicacy of touching upon such a sub- 
ject at all. 

The hot bath made me feel lazy, and I spent the 
remainder of the day on the sofa in my little room, 
at any height of the lift. If I had been a man I 
should have smoked, and probably have interested 
myself in the prices of stocks and shares, or the 
latest betting in the next great race. Being a woman, 
I in»(^rested myself in a novel. It was a nautical 
story of some sort, with plenty of tar and rope, and 
strange characters drawn together out of every 
rank and condition of life, from every quarter of the 
globe, and from all points of the compass. 

Presently I found myself getting charmingly 
sleepy. So I placed a candle, matches, and my book 
on a table within my reach, left the window which 
looked towards the river open, and in a very few 
minutes was fast asleep. I had no dreams that 
night ; which, in so far as facts are worth anything, 
seems to show of what little practical use dreams are 
in pointing out impending trouble. 


L/acy Smith’s Narrative 


35 


CHAPTER V. 

Next morning* I arose full of vigour and business- 
like determination. I apparelled myself uncompro- 
misingly in black silk with plain cuffs and collar, and 
a small black bonnet with no decorations beyond the 
tulle cap. My boots and my umbrella were service- 
able, and my gloves were the very darkest lavender. 
I might have been going, if women had all their 
rights, to take my seat at a Board of Directors. 

And now I must explain, for the benefit of such 
gentlemen as may do me the honour to read me, how 
I took out my money. Honi soit qui mat y pense, 
I am bound to give details. 

A man who has a bundle of bank notes puts them 
into his pistol pocket and buttons them up. A woman 
has not got a pistol pocket. Or else he puts them 
into an inner breast coat pocket, and then buttons up 
his coat, more Britannico. Sailors going into dan- 
gerous quarters put their money between the sole of 
their foot and their shoe, lace up their shoe tightly, 
and tie it with a double knot. A sailor also invari- 
ably wears a flannel shirt. This has an inside pocket 
next the skin. Here Jack keeps his certificate of dis- 
charge, the last letter from his sweetheart, and other 
such treasures. It is singular that women, who 
devote so much more of their time to thinking over 


36 


Adventures of L/acy Smith 


dress than do men, and who are always making 
startling and revolutionary experiments in fashion, 
should never have invented a safety pocket. Yet 
such is the fact. You have only to watch a woman 
in the street for a few minutes, and nine times out of 
ten you will discover exactly where her purse is, and 
will of course know how to get at it. 

My purse, I may tell my readers, was in a pocket 
slung between my topmost petticoat and the skirt of 
my dress. If any gentleman among my readers does 
not understand what I mean by this, he may safely 
usk any lady of his acquaintance, old or young, 
married or single. 

Knowing, or rather having heard, that things in 
Tottenham Court Road were cheaper than elsewhere, 
I took a yellow omnibus from Charing Cross, and so 
made my way to the junction of that famous thor- 
oughfare with Oxford Street. In the omnibus and 
seated next me during the journey was an old lady 
very respectably dressed. I should hardly have 
noticed her had it not been for the peculiar clearness 
and brightness of her eyes, the determination of her 
hard and forbidding features, and the general vigour 
of her appearance. 

Where Tottenham Court Road joins Oxford Street 
I got out, made my way to a large draper’s which 
seemed to me as good an establishment as any of 
the others, if not a better, and commenced my pur- 
chases. Into the details of these I need not enter. 
It is sufficient to say that I treated myself more or 
less to what young ladies would term an outfit, and 
sailors a rig-out. I was determined while I had 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


37 


i]iy money to buy a sufficient wardrobe, and to have 
no more trouble about dress for at least a couple of 
years to come. So I purchased, not recklessly at 
all, but still, for an humble governess, somewhat 
heavily. I had brought out with me about thirty 
pounds, and when I paid my account I had left a 
five-pound note, two or three pounds in gold, and 
some silver. 

The bulk of the things I ordered to be sent to the 
hotel with all possible despatch, but 1 then and there 
in the shop changed the gloves, the mantle, and the 
bonnet which I was wearing for new articles of the 
same kind, leaving the old to be sent back with my 
other purchases. And I also took away with me a 
really handsome sunshade, which had taken my 
fancy, and a sealskin reticule bag with a beautiful 
morocco belt which I had intended to do duty for a 
panier pocket. 

Outside the shop and on the pavement I found the 
day still young, and as I had never seen the Zoolog- 
ical Gardens, but knew them to be a place to which 
a young lady might go without a chaperon, 1 asked 
a policeman their direction. Finding the distance 
to be little more than a short walk, I se t to work 
to accomplish it on foot. 

I must have got about halfway up Tottenham 
Court Road when a breathless draper’s assistant, 
without his hat, and his pen behind his ear, came 
rushing up behind me and slapped me violently 
on the shoulder. I turned round and looked at 
him with astonishment and indignation. ‘ How 
dare you, sir ? ’ I cried. 


38 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


‘ You’ll know in a jiffy,’ he retorted, blowing for 
breath, and v/iping the perspiration from his puffy 
face with the back of his hand. ^You’ll know, or 
I’ll pretty soon have to teach you. You stop here 
till the officer comes, or it will be the worse for 
you.’ 

I had turned round, so that I was looking down 
the road, and I now saw a police constable coming 
up, not at the usual deliberate saunter, but at a 
brisk and business-like pace. 

‘ What is this ? ’ I asked as soon as he arrived. 

‘You know well enough,’ he answered. ‘Now 
just come back quietly and don’t make any fuss, 
else it ’ll just be the worse for you. Come along.’ 

I was paralysed with terror, and went back to the 
shop in a state of absolute bewilderment. 

When I entered it under the control of the con- 
stable, although he had no physical hold on me, I 
was ushered into a back room, where I found two or 
three men, evidently counter assistants, and one 
who seemed to be a master or partner in the firm. 

In the first place I was identified as the person 
who had made certain purchases that morning, tak- 
ing away some and ordering the remainder to be 
sent to the Charing Cross Hotel. The constable 
who took notes asked me if this was true, and I said 
‘Yes.’ I was then asked to produce my purse if I 
had it. I handed it to the constable, who opened it. 
How its contents had been changed I am unable to 
say. It now contained a small bundle of notes. 
Some of these the constable pointed out with con- 
tempt as being drawn upon the Banks of Elegance 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


39 


and of Eng-raving*. Others were Bank of England 
notes apparently. But the constable and my accu- 
sers passed them round and held them up to the 
light, and felt them as a miller feels his meal he- 
tw^een the thumb and the finger, and pronounced 
them to be forgeries. In the money compartment 
was a little loose silver, a genuine half-sovereign, 
and a number of bronze medals, which evoked the 
contemptuous exclamation, ^ Hanover jacks ! ’ 

‘ Well,’ said the constable, ^ I think it’s about as 
neat a case as I ever saw. We must for a remand, 
of course. It ’ll take some time, because it’s quite 
clear she must be in with a gang of ’em. How, sir, 
you must come round with me and prefer the charge.’ 
But at this moment the door opened, and the part- 
ner to whom this remark was addressed received a 
whispered communication from a shopman. 

‘ Just wait a minute, officer,’ said he. ^ I am told 
this is something very important. I’ll be back in a 
minute.’ 

‘ Certainly, sir,’ said the officer. And as the pro- 
prietor went out the officer shut the door, and placed 
his back against it. 

Then I felt my sight growing dim, and the room 
began to wdiirl i*ound me. ‘ Give me some water,’ 
I called out ; ' I feel faint.’ 

‘ Bosh ! ’ retorted the officer. 

Then the air turned black but full of lurid red 
sparks, and I felt as if something had cracked in 
my head, and I was somehow aware that I had 
fallen heavily on the floor, and then I was aware of 
nothing. 


40 


Adventioreii of Lucy Smith 


CHAPTER VI. 

When I came to myself I had no idea whether 
hours or even days had passed. I opened my eyes 
dreamily and wearily. I was in bed, and in one of 
the most delightful rooms I had ever seen in my 
life. There were rooms far more expensively fur- 
nished in the Bulhrooke chateau, hut none so pret- 
tily. I was on a light French bedstead of fancy 
ironwork, with gauze curtains looped up with bows 
of ribbon. On a table close by were medicines, 
wine, fruit, and flowers, and there were vases of 
flowers scattered about the room, on the mantel- 
piece, and on brackets. The French windows were 
open, and looked on to a balcony festooned -with 
creepers ; and in the open air beyond the swallows 
were darting to and fro. 

There were a number of other things which I could 
only notice vaguely, such as a clock of Sevres china, 
so far as I could judge, in the centre of the mantel- 
piece, a huge tiger’s skin with great glass eyes in its 
head doing duty as a hearth-rug, a small fountain 
fixed against the wall tossing up a brisk jet of water, 
and on the walls a number of engravings and photo- 
graphs of well-known pictures from the English Acad- 
emy and the French Salon, framed with great white 
margins in an almost imperceptible gold beading. 


iMcy Smith’s Narrative 


41 


Squatted on the lieartli-rug" was the most curious 
human being* I had ever seen in my life — a little 
negress with a skin as black as jet, snow-white hair, 
and great staring eyes. The moment she saw me 
awake she touched a knob in the wall so close to her 
that she had not to rise to reach it. Wondering 
what all this might mean, I lay still with my eyes 
half shut, and waited. 

Almost immediately the door opened, and in came 
the old lady whom I had seen in the omnibus on my 
way to Tottenham Court Road. I was still so weak 
and bewildered that I hardly felt astonished at this 
coincidence, and only waited to see what might be 
going to happen. 

She held up her finger to me, as if to enjoin 
silence. Then she came to my bedside, felt my 
pulse and nodded approval, held me up in bed 
with one arm and rearranged the pillows with 
the other, and then allowed me to sink gratefully 
back upon them. Then from a stoppered bottle on 
the mantelpiece she poured a few drops of a 
bright red fiuid into a small tumbler of water from 
a carafe which was standing neck deep in a bowl of 
ice. 

The liquid at first was green, of the deepest emer- 
ald, then it shifted through all the prismatic hues of 
the opal, and then it turned a bright ruby red. She 
handed it to me and motioned me to drink it. It 
could not have been wine, of course, but it tasted to 
me like wine of some very rich and rare vintage. 
There was the aroma of the grape in it. And even 
as I drank it I felt the blood come to my lips and 


42 


Adi^entures of Iaicij Smith 


cheek, and my pulse quicken, and I became aware of 
new strength. 

Then the old lady, who had seated herself in a 
great wicker chair, opened her mouth and said, 
‘ How are you, my dear ? ’ 

‘ Almost well, thank you,’ I answered, with some 
of the vigour of the cordial in my tone. ‘ But I have 
been dreadfully frightened.’ And here the full mem- 
ory of the whole thing came back upon me, and I 
turned round and buried my face in the soft pillows. 
Somehow or other I did not break into crying. 

‘ You will soon be all right,’ I heard her voice say. 
And then I felt it was ungrateful of me to be child- 
ish, and I boldly collected myself and sat straight up 
in bed. ‘ You se'e,’ said I, ‘ I am stronger than you 
might have thought.’ 

^ Ah*me ! ’ she answered, ‘ you have had a terrible 
trial, and a more than usual shock. But you’re 
young, and there is magic in jmuth. Could you 
stand on your feet if you tried ? ’ 

I tried, and found that I could stand on my feet — 
not with the full springy tread of ordinary days, but 
with firmness and confidence. 

^Very good,’ she answered. ‘How, I am a 
doctor.’ 

I opened my eyes at the statement, but a new 
wonder among so many was a little matter. 

, ‘ I have lived many years in the East, where the 
wise women know more of medicine than the men. 
There is a carriage at the door, and you must come 
for a drive. In this room ’—and she opened a side 
door — ‘is a warm bath waiting for yon.’ 


Jjacy Smith's Narrative 43 

I followed her in. There was a hath and a toilet- 
table with all its accessories ; and on another table 
were my clothes, neatly placed in order, and at the 
foot of the table my boots. 

‘Are you strong enough to take your bath by 
yourself and without my help ? ' 

I again nodded gratefully, and said ‘Yes.’ 

‘ Then I will wait for you in the next room, but I 
shall leave the door open in case you feel faint 
again.’ 

I had never enjoyed such a delightful bath in my 
life. It was odorless, and apparentl^^ consisted of 
nothing but clear water, but it had some magical 
sort of soothing effect upon me ; and when I 
emerged from it I noticed that my skin had a 
bright, smooth appearance like that of highly pol- 
ished ivory, and that through it the veins shone 
with the most delicately blue tint. I could hardly 
recognize myself. 

Then the old lady came in and began to bustle 
about. She dressed my hair, assisted me with my 
toilet, and, having again satisfied herself that I 
could be trusted to walk without assistance, led me 
down a wide staircase. This staircase ran around a 
square hall panelled with black oak and paved with 
encaustic tiles, and everywhere about the staircase 
and the hall were niches and brackets with statuettes 
and rare exotics, and quaint orchids blossoming in 
porcelain vases. 

At the door was a large carriage of the kind Mrs. 
Bulbrooke used to call a barouche, with an immense 
pair of iron-gray horses in it, and on the box was a 


44 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


negro coachman. A negro footman let down the 
steps for us, opened and closed the door and clam- 
bered up to his seat, and we set off at a brisk pace 
down a long* winding* avenue of laurels. Then we 
passed a lodge where a woman was holding the gate 
open for us, and so we emerged into a country 
road. 

‘We are going to drive for about three hours,’ 
said my companion. ‘ It will he as much as you can 
stand the first day.’ 

We dashed along through country roads, past 
cottages and alehouses, with here and there a villa 
or a lodge gate, and now and again a country church. 
But I noticed after some time that we had never 
passed a single sign-post. This a little roused my 
curiosity. So I turned to my companion and said 
naturally enough, ‘ This is very beautiful, hut in what 
part of the country are we ? I need hardly say it is 
new to me, and I should like to know.’ 

‘ I really do not know myself,’ she replied, ‘but I 
quite agree with you that it is very beautiful.’ 

So we rattled along amid all the glories of a truly 
English fine day, and I was too happy to ask further 
questions, or even to talk. We must have driven in 
a circle, for we somehow returned to our own lodge 
gates by a different road. The evening clouds were 
gathering in, and the swallows beginning to fly low. 

The drive had done me good, and I knew that I 
was the stronger for it; hut I was also tired, and 
when it was suggested that I should have some 
supper and go to bed, I at once consented. 

My companion and I had supper together. It was 


iMcy Smith’s Narrative 


45 


a dainty meal, thoug-h I cannot give its contents 
beyond remembering that there were ices and a huge 
cluster of hothouse grapes. Then my old friend saw 
me upstairs and into bed, and in a very few minutes 
I was fast asleep. 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


46 


CHAPTER VII. 

I MUST have been more than usually drowsy by my 
drive through the countr^^ air, or, as I conjectured 
without the least indignation at the idea, must have 
had some gentle opiate administered to me, for when 
I woke the clock on the mantelpiece was actually at 
half-past one, and I could see for m^^seif, b^^ the 
brightness of the sunlight and the length of the 
shadows of the furniture on the floor, that that 
must be about the time. 

As before, there was every appliance of luxury 
round about me. On a table within reach were 
flowers, fruit, a small hand-bell, and one or two 
novels. On another table a miniature fountain 
tossed up its tiny jet. The freshness and balminess 
of the room was something magical. 

I felt much stronger, and boldl^^ sat up in bed. 
Then, I am ashamed to say, I turned like a baby 
upon some hothouse grapes. Men tell you that the^^ 
like a brandy and soda in the morning, and I believe 
they do. For my part, I had never known until 
then the marvellous pleasure of beginning the day 
with a cluster of purple grapes thickly powdered 
with their own bloom. 

Then I got out of bed, put on a pretty peignoir 
that was waiting for me by the toilet-table, and 


Lucij Smith's Narrative 


4 ? 


made a demi- toilette. There was literally every- 
thing* that could he wanted — tortoiseshell combs, 
ivory-backed brushes, unguents in pretty china 
vases, and scents in stoppered bottles of heavily cut 
glass. When I was satisfied with my appearance I 
ensconced m^T-self in a large and comfortable easy 
chair, first touching the electric bell in the wall. 

‘ I must have this matter out now,’ I said to my- 
self, ‘ and have it out I will.’ 

Almost immediately the door opened, and my old 
friend entered. 

‘I am glad to see you so much stronger and 
better,’ she said. ‘ The drive and the sleep after it 
have done you good.’ 

^All the good in the world,’ I said. ‘And now I 
want to ask you if you can spare me an hour for 
a serious talk. ’ 

‘ As many hours as you like, my child, if you are 
quite yourself. But that is what I am not quite 
certain of. Let me feel your pulse.’ 

I held out my hand, with a laugh. 

‘It is regular,’ she said, ‘and not thready, but it 
is not so full as I could wish. We must have some 
more blood in you, and a little more iron. Iron,’ 
she added, with strange earnestness, ‘is the true 
seed of life. The alchemists wasted their time in 
trying to discover it in gold. With iron in your 
blood the gold will fill your hands of itself. It will 
slmwer itself down upon you as it did upon Banae.’ 

All this was but half intelligible to me, and I sup- 
])o^e my blank look of astonishment betrayed as 
mnch. for my companion broke into a laugh. 


48 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


^ You must not mind my chatter/ she said ; ^ it’s a 
way I have. And now I have some news for you.’ 

^ What is it ? ’ I asked eag-erly. 

^ Well, it is not exactly news. It does not concern 
anj^ one you know or anything in which you are es- 
pecially interested. But the doctor thinks that you 
are quite strong* enough to be moved to the sea-side, 
and I agree with him. So I think the sooner we go 
the better. When shall we go ? ’ 

‘ The onl}" sea-side place I have ever been to is 
Bognor,’ I answered. 

‘ Well, I do not suppose you particularly care to 
go there again.’ 

‘ I know some very nice people there,’ I answered, 
rather quickly and sharply. 

^ Oh yes, yes. But we want a place that will set 
you up. We will say Torquay.’ 

‘ As you please,’ I answered. ‘ Of course I have 
heard of it, although I have never been there. But 
now, if you do not mind, I want to ask you a ques- 
tion or two.’ 

‘ As many questions as you like,’ she answered, 
with a slight but still perceptible change in her voice 
and manner. ‘ I do not promise, however, I shall 
anrwer them all.’ 

‘ In the first place, then, how is it that I am here ? ’ 

‘ Oh, that is easily told. You were in a very un- 
pleasant position. You were accused of attempting 
to pass forged bank notes, and there is no doubt 
whatever that the notes were forged. I happened 
to be present and saw what was going on. The 
moment I looked at you I felt certain of your inno- 


49 


Ldicy Smith’s Narrative. 

cence, and I felt certain also that the circumstances 
were so singular that a stupid jury of British shop- 
keepers would most certainly find you guilty. The 
idea of a mere child like you going into penal servi- 
tude seemed horrible to me. You do not know what 
penal servitude is. It is slow death in life. So I got 
hold of the beast of a shopkeeper and talked him 
over, telling him that I had known you from a child 
—an untruth which I think Heaven will pardon me. 
I paid him his bill and left him his goods, so that he 
got his value twice over, and then I took you away 
with me. I took you first of all to the Langham. 
You were in a strange condition. For an hour or 
two you would faint ; then you would start up and 
talk deliriously about all kinds of things, until you 
fell back exhausted. An hotel was not the place for 
you, so I exercised a little innocent craft. You had 
a rather stronger opiate than usual administered, 
and you were brought down here under its influence. 
Your system must have been terribly shaken, for 
you have been here, in perhaps the very healthiest 
part of England, for nearly three weeks, and are 
hardl}^ quite yourself yet.’ 

‘ I am very grateful to you,’ I murmured. ‘ Think 
of^what you have saved me from ! ’ And I shud- 
dered with terror. ‘ Were I to work for the rest of 
my life I could not repay you.’ 

‘ There is no occasion, my dear, to talk in that 
way; you owe me nothing. Being there, it was 
simply my duty to help you and to see you through 
your trouble. I should have been a callous wretch 
indeed if I had not done so.’ 


50 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

‘ But who are you ? and is this house 3"ours ? and 
what am I to do next ? ’ 

^ Too many questions at once, my dear. I am Mrs* 
Jackson. This house is mine for every intent and 
purpose. My orders are obeyed in it by everybody ; 
and, as I have said before, you have nobod^^ to thank. 
As for what you are to do next, that very much de- 
pends on your own choice ; but it was my idea that 
Ave should g-o together to Torquay. And I think Ave 
had better start to-morrow morning. I am sure you 
can bear the journey.’ 

I could only repeat that I was A"er3’ grateful, but 
that I did not want to be a burden upon unknown 
friends. 

‘You are a burden upon no one, and your friends 
are not unknown to you, as you already enjoy my 
confidence and I yours. And now Ave Avill get out 
into the garden.’ 

I took this as an order that the discussion Avas to 
be discontinued. 

‘You can come as you are,’ she said; ‘the grass 
is quite dry. Here you are ; ’ and she pointed out 
on a small occasional table a broad-brimmed hat, a 
little pair of walking slippers, and a sunshade of a 
kind I had never seen before, with a handle so long 
and so tough that it could have been almost used as 
an alpenstock. Mrs. Jackson told me afterwards 
it Avas mountain ash. 

The windows of my room, I found, opened on to a 
balcony ; and from the balcony a flight of steps ran 
down into a large garden, surrounded on every side 
by a high wall. Mr. Bulbrooke had his ideas about 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative. 


51 


gardening, and spent money lavishly in their realisa- 
tion. Bat he had certainly never seen anything like 
this. Immense trees overshadowed a lawn as green 
as emerald and as soft as velvet. Flowers which I 
knew to he rare and costly were growing in profu- 
I sion; and there were seats pleasantlj^ arranged, and 
arbours, and here and there a fountain tossing up a 
silver jet into a basin of water-lilies, amid the broad 
leaves of w'hich gold-fish basked lazily in the sun’s 
rays. It was like the garden in which Beauty’s 
father stole his rose. 

We strayed about together for some little time, 
and then sat down under an immense chestnut. 
Mrs. Jackson selected a circular seat, with a little 
table before it. Then she blew a small silver whistle, 
and a little negro boy in quaint uniform, with a 
caftan and a fez, came running up, and made a 
profound salaam. 

She spoke a few words to him in a language which 
I did not understand, and he hurried away, reappear- 
ing almost immediately with a tray which he de- 
posited before ps, and upon which were ices, hothouse 
fruit, aerated waters in siphons, and some bottles, 
among which I recognised a little squat bottle fash- 
ioned like a flask, with a handle to it, and which my 
experience at Mr. Bulbrooke’s enabled me to put 
down as containing hock of a rare vintage. 

I enjoyed my meal as a schoolgirl might have 
done. The fruit and ices were delicious, and the 
hock was like what I can imagine nectar might be. 

' Drink as much of it as you please, my dear,’ said 
the old lady ; ' it is as harmless as lemonade : and if 


52 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

it should by accident make your cheeks flush a little, 
I am here to take care of you.’ 

I laughed and told her that I had tasted Steinberg 
Cabinet in flasks before, and that it was Mr. Bul- 
brooke’s favourite vintage. 

‘ Then Mr. Bulbrooke was not a bad judge,’ she 
replied, with an approving laugh of her own. And 
therewith the matter dropped. 

The shadows began to fall and the swallows to fly 
low, and from the fountains here and ther^ a mist 
began to rise ; so we returned to the house, entering 
my room by way of the balcony, as we had left it. 

‘ And now, m^^ child,’ said Mrs. Jackson, * as there 
is a journey before us to-morrow, you had better 
have a bath and go to bed. Everything shall be left 
at your bedside that you can possibly want.’ 

I obeyed like a child. I made my wa^’ into the 
next room, where a delicious hot bath was waiting 
for me, which, as I have described before, seemed to 
soothe and quiet all my limbs, while at the same 
time it made me most pleasantly drowsy. 

I came back and clambered into bed. ‘ Do not put 
out the lights,’ I said; ' I like to go to bed with a 
light.’ 

The old Isidy nodded assent and left me, and in a 
minute I was asleep. 

Whether my sleep was natural, or whether the 
wine or anything else that I had taken had been 
drugged, or my bath medicated, I cannot of course 
say for a certainty, but I do not think so. I think 
all was natural ; for when I woke in the morning I 
found myself thoroughly refreshed, which is never 


L/ucy Smith’s Na7mative 


53 


^.he case after an opiate, and without the least trace 
of headache. I was very anxious to get up. The 
clock over the mantelpiece pointed ten o’clock, so I 
must have slept soundly indeed. 

I had hardly noticed the time, and again taking a 
look round the room, one of the doors opened and 
Mrs. Jackson entered. 

‘ I heard you wake, my dear,’ she said in her un- 
moved way, ‘and thought I would come in at once.’ 
(How she could have heard me wake I do not know, 
although it did not strike me as odd at the time that 
she should say so.) ‘ And now, as I can see you are 
fit for the journe^^, we will dress and start for Tor- 
quay at once. I will be your lady’s-maid.’ 

She was very deft, and dressed me to perfection. 
I never saw 1113^ hair look so well. Then she selected 
a plain travelling dress and small bonnet, with an 
equally unobtrusive jacket. 

‘ The things jmu had at the hotel are all here, but 
it was scarcel^^ worth while unpacking them.’ 

There they were, sure enough, awaiting me in the 
hall, and at the hall door was again a carriage, with 
a couple of powerful horses. Behind, a kind of small 
four-wheeled cart was waiting for the luggage. 

We were soon out of the garden gates and in the 
high road, along which we travelled at an eas.ypace. 
It was a glorious day, but I could hardly enjo^^ it, I 
was so puzzled to knoAV where I was. As before, 
we never passed a single sign-post, or anything that 
I could identify afterwards, such as a roadside inn 
with a conspicuous sign. We seemed rather to 
travel b}^ byroads, at the sides of which the hedges 


54 Adventures of L/ucy Smith 

were thick, while here and there the trees on either 
side actually closed over our heads. 

At last we came into a region of handsome de- 
tached villas, any one of which would have quite 
contented Mr. Bulbrooke, and some of which he 
might very well have envied their occupiers. Then 
we drew up at a roadside station, which I found was 
Chislehurst. 

From Chislehurst we proceeded in a reserved car- 
riage to Charing Cross. At Charing Cross a man- 
servant was waiting for us on the platform, and 
conducted us to a brougham outside. The brougham 
proceeded by way of Piccadilly and Park Lane tp 
Paddington, and at Paddington we found our lug- 
gage waiting for us on the platform, and again a 
compartment reserved, and supplied with every little 
luxury and comfort that can beguile a railway 
journey — novels of late date, illustrated papers, fruit 
and refreshment. I had given up now wondering at 
anything, and accepted the comforts thus almost 
magically showered upon me with complacency^ 

We had timed the train to a nicety. It was an 
express running direct to Bristol, with only one stop- 
page, at Swindon. I took my seat in a corner win- '] 
dow, and my companion took hers nearly opposite to j 
me. The whistle blew, and off we started. ^ 

First came interminable rows of squalid suburbs. \ 
Then we began to get into the country, and my friend I 
pointed out Windsor Castle to me on our left-hand I 
side. After this I remember nothing except a stop- ^ 
page at Swindon, where we had some ices brought I 
us, and the view of the White Horse on the slope of 1 


Lucy SmUh\^ Narrative 


55 


the Berkshire hills. Then the country began to get 
more woody and less undulating, and at last we ran 
into Bristol. 

At Bristol we got into another train, and almost 
immediately proceeded on our journey, but the even- 
ing was closing in. There was not much temptation 
to look out of the window, and I somehow fell asleep. 
When I awoke we had reached Torquay. Here again 
a carriage was waiting for us, and here again we 
were driven, only this time in a very few minutes, to 
a villa in its own grounds. 

We were evidently expected, for tea and coffee and 
other things were waiting for us, but once again my 
companion took matters into her own hands. First 
she insisted on my taking a glass of wine. Then, 
again, I had another hot bath. This one was just 
perceptibly scented with the rich lemon-like fragrance 
of magnolia. And then I found myself again in bed, 
with lights burning under pleasant shades in swinging 
cressets, and again I fell fast asleep. 


56 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


CHAPTER VIII. 

When the morning- came, and I could look around 
me leisurely, I found I was surrounded by the same 
luxury as before. It was luxury of the highest kind, 
and so devoid of ostentation that at first it escaped 
your notice. 

Rolled up at the foot of my bed, for iristance, was 
an extra coverlet of fur in case of a chilly night. 
Examining it out of idle curiosity, I found it con- 
sisted of the finest sable-skins, each with its little 
pendent tail. It must have been worth some 
hundreds of guineas. The china toilet set and 
knick-knacks were genuine Dresden, with the two 
little blue crossed swords in proof of their authen- 
ticity. The clock on the mantelpiece was Le Roy 
in a massive buhl case, and it not onl^^ chimed the 
hours and quarters, but if touched in the night did 
duty as a repeater. 

These are just a few of the things I remember. 
How they amazed me can be easily imagined. 

My old friend came as usual, and assisted me to 
dress ; nor did I like to ungraciously refuse her ser- 
vices, although I had now quite recovered my 
strength. Then she proposed a drive along the edge 
of the bay, through Paignton and Goodrington Sands 
to Brixham and back. I assented with pleasure, and 


hucy Smith’s Narrative 


57 


we were soon being* whirled along in a large open 
barouche, with two magnificent roan horses. 

The sea air exhilarated me marvellously, and 
the sight of the sea itself, leaping and dancing under 
the sun, seemed to fill me with its own life. Once 
again I attempted to extract from Mrs. Jackson 
something more as to the guardianship under which 
I was. 

^ Silly child,’ she said, ^you want to know every- 
thing too soon. You want to cut a hole in your drum 
to see how the noise is made. Can you not be happy 
with the present ? Surely your own sense must tell 
you you are with friends. And what possible motive 
can either they or I have for injuring you ? ’ 

It was difficult to answer this direct parry, so I 
changed my tactics. 

‘ Well,’ I said lightly, ‘ I suppose I shall know all 
in good time. Pray do not think me ungrateful for 
all these strange luxuries.’ 

‘You’re a dear, good girl, and you speak like a 
good girl ought. You shall thank the right person 
in time.’ 

‘ And when will that be ? ’ 

‘ I cannot exactly tell, but I shall hear, and will 
let you know at once. Probably within a fortnight. 
Look at the sea again. “ Time writes no wrinkle on 
its brow ” like those it has written on mine. How 
glorious it is to be young ! I would give a year of 
my life at this minute to have back a week of it such 
as it was when I was eighteen.’ 

And she clapped her hands together, and began to 
sing a strange song in a language I did not under- 


58 Adventures of Lmcy Smith 

stand, and to a curious kind of tune, which at mo- 
ments reminded me of Chopin, and at moments again 
of some of the wildest creations of Wagner. 

I felt really afraid to ask her an 3 ^ more questions, 
so we rolled on until it became time to turn the 
horses’ head and retrace our path. 

‘ We shall have dinner in about an hour,’ she said 
when we had gained m^^ room. ‘ Take my advice, 
and lie down till then. Sleep if you can, but first 
have a glass of this still hock. It is the choicest 
Liebfraumilch. Oh dear me ! dear me ! ’ 

I took the wine, which was delicious indeed, and 
slept soundl^^ after it. Then came the meal, which 
again, as I now know, must have taxed the resources 
of what may be called the art of cookery. I do not 
remember its details, but I recollect that it again 
finished with ices and a profusion of hothouse fruit, 
and that as it drew to a close rich bouquets of flowers 
were placed on the table, and made the air heavy 
with their scent. 

We had some extraordinary tea, which Mrs. Jack- 
son told me had been brought overland by caravan 
from Pekin to Moscow, and thence from Moscow to 
Calais by rail, so that its experience of the sea had 
been very short. 

‘No sea-carried tea, m^^ dear,’ she remarked, ‘is 
worth drinking. You may seal it up in lead as 
much as you please, but it gets a nasty flavour of 
tar about it all the same. This tea was packed in 
silver at Pekin, and has kept its aroma fairly well, 
although it is not an e^rly growth.’ 

I could only stare again in astonishment at this 


Lucy Smith's Narrative 


59 


strangle being, who seemed to do everything and 
know everything. 

Just at that minute the clock on the mantelpiece 
struck ten. ‘You are tired? ’ she asked, evidently 
expecting the answer ‘Yes.’ 

‘ Not very ; but I think I should like to go to bed.’ 

‘Well, you shall go to bed; but I want to say 
something to you first. Think it over as you go to 
sleep, and give me your answer in the morning. Do 
you dream much ? ’ 

‘ Hardly at all, and never when I am quite well, 
and have been in the open air as I have been to-day.’ 

‘ Then you will lose the less. 1 want you to sell 
me your dreams.’ 

‘ Sell you my dreams ! ’ I answered, with a laugh. 
‘ How can I do so ? ’ 

‘ Oh, you may take it in a joke if you like. That 
will make it all the easier. What price do you 
want ? ’ 

I laughed again, fool that I was. ‘ You, and per- 
haps other people, whoever they are, have been very 
kind to me, who am an utter stranger. You have 
saved me from ruin and disgrace. Of course you 
are talking in joke. If I could make you a present 
of the dreams, I would do so this minute.’ 

‘Will you sell them to me at twelve o’clock to- 
morrow morning ? It is my fancy to buy them. 
Surely you will humour me ? ’ 

‘ Of course I will. And now may I go to bed ? 
The drive has tired me.’ 

‘ Certainly, my dear child. I should like to go to 
bed myself. Let me first see you safe in your own.’ 


60 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 

Within a few minutes I was in bed, and within a 
very few minutes more was sound asleep. Again I 
am bound to say that I do not think I had been 
drugged. My sleep was natural and refreshing, and 
I woke from it the next morning vigorous and with 
all my senses about me. 

First came my bath, over which I loitered affec- 
tionately. Then I brushed my hair tlioroughly and 
carefully, doing it up loosely. I remember myself 
feeling proud of the mass of it, and its weight, as it 
fell on the back of my neck. Then I chose a morning 
dress of white nun’s cloth, trimmed with lace, with 
plain white collar and cuffs, and silver solitaires and 
brooch ; and as I looked at myself imthe cheval glass 
I felt satisfied. 

I made my way down the great oak stairs into the 
hall, and so out into a garden radiant with flowers. 
On one side of it was a raised terrace, which com- 
manded a view of the sea over the top of the sur- 
rounding wall, which was bright with the yellow 
stonecrop. The turf was like velvet. The flower- 
beds, as before, were filled with the choicest flowers, 
and once again in the centre of the lawn was a 
fountain, tossing a great jet’ of water high up into 
the air. Air this I more or less saw at glance, but 
what interested me most was a red granite pillar 
about eight feet high. It was obelisk-shaped, and 
stood in the centre of a stone pavement formed by 
the intersection of two equilateral triangles, and 
thus in itself taking the shape of a star with six 
points. 

Walking towards it, I saw that the pillar, its pedi- 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 6i: 

ment, and the pavement were all engraved with 
strange Oriental characters I was examining these 
when the old lady came up. 

‘ What language is this ? ' I asked, pointing to the 
weird inscriptions. 

I ‘Arabic, I believe, my dc.ar,’ she answered care- 
I iessly, ‘ but I am sure I cannot tell you for certain, 
i English is about the only la/iiguage I know, except a 
I few words of Turkish for sei.wants and others, which 
I I have picked up in the Levant and at Constantinople, 
I just as you are bound to pick up a certain small 
i amount of French if you stop for a week at a French 
watering-place.’ 

‘ And you have been in the Levant ? ’ 

‘Certainly.’ 

‘How I should like to go thither, and see the 
mountains of Greece, and the Archipelago, and the 
Bosphorus, and the Golden Horn, and the Valley of 
Sweet Waters ! ’ 

I ‘You shall see them all, if you like, some day, but 
I think you’ll be disappointed. I know them all 
myself, and I can assure you that unless you want 
snow-capped mountains, about which I do not care, 
England, all in all, is the most beautiful country 
in Europe; and Devonshire, where we now are — 
although some prefer Kent — the most beautiful 
part of England.’ 

Every time my companion opened her mouth she 
bewildered me by the marvellous extent of her knowl- 
edge and experience. 

I ‘ And now,’ she said, ‘ to change the subject. You 
! remember what I proposed to you last night ? ’ 

I ' 


Adventures of Lucy Smith ’ 




‘ Quite well.’ 

‘ And you have slept upon it ? ’ 

'Yes.’ 

' Will you sell your dreams ? ’ 

' How on earth can I ? How can I sell what is 
not my own ? I have no control over them.’ 

' If I make a had bargain, and, as the rustics in 
these parts say, buy a pig in a poke, the loss is mine, 
I shall not he so unreasonable as to quarrel with 
you. My part of the bargain shall be kept honora- 
bly, so ye a will have no cause to quarrel with me. 
Surely that is straightforward and fair.’ 

'Quite fair,’ I laughed. 

' Very well, then. Will you sell me your dreams ? 
Y ou shall have a pound a day for them — that is to 
say, a pound every twenty-four hours. That mone^’^ 
shall be paid you every month in advance, wherever 
you may be; and if the payments are dropped or 
discontinued, your dreams are to be your own again.’ 

Fool that I was, I broke out laughing again. I 
imagined that she must really be playing some 
little joke with me. 

' We will finish the bargain at once,’ I cried. 
' Let us shake hands on it, like farmers do when 
they sell a horse.’ 

'We must be more business-like, my dear. I 
want it in writing.’ 

'Ten times over if you like.’ 

'Once will do. This way.’ 

I followed her across the lawn, or, to be more 
exact, walked by her side till we reached the win- 
dows of a large room on ground-floor, opening 


63 


lAicy Smithes Narrative 

on to the lawn. It was furnished like a library, 
with books behind glass doors and cases, and here 
and there on tables what I knew to be scientific 
apparatus, though 1 couid not conjecture its purpose.’ 

We sat down in a ba^^- window that looked out 
upon the garden. A circular seat ran round, form- 
ing the window into an alcove, and in the centre 
was a table with writing materials. 

‘ Are you going to draw up the agreement ? ’ I 
asked, looking at the display of pens, paper, and 
ink. 

^ No, my dear, \ have it with me. You had better 
read it before you sign it.^ 

She handed it to me. It was on a very small piece 
of exquisite white vellum, engrossed in a charmingly 
legible hand, and it ran as follows. I shall never 
forget the words : 

' I, Lucy Smith, for the consideration of seven 
pounds a week, pa^^able monthly, and in advance, 
at the rate of twenty-eight pounds every four weeks, 
at any place which I may select, or to any agents I 
may name, agree to sell my dreams between the 
hours of sunset and sunrise to Rebecca Jackson and 
her assigns. This agreement to come into force as 
and from this date, and to be mutual, the payment 
ceasing on my death, and my dreams, if any, imme- 
diately becoming fully and unconditionally my own 
upon any omission or default in the payments above 
mentioned, or in any one of them.’ 

It was in legal phraseology, no doubt, and yet any 
schoolgirl could have understood it. I broke out 
laughing again. 


64 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


* Will you sign it at once ? ^ she asked. 

‘ Of course.’ 

A strange light seemed to leap up in her eyes. 
She stretched out her right hand and caught hold 
of my left wrist, and I felt one of her rings pinch me 
rather sharply. 

‘ You have hurt me,' I called out as the blood 
started. 

‘!N'ever mind,’ she said ; and dipping the point of a 
clean quill in the drops that w^ere trickling over my 
wrist, she thrust it into my right hand. ‘ Sign witti 
that.’ 

I felt thoroughly scared, and hesitated. 

‘ Sign,’ she cried again imperiously, and her eyes 
gleamed upon me with a strange, deep lustre that 
terrified me. 

I just remember signing as I was told, and I 
remember nothing more, for I discovered after- 
wards that I must have fainted. When I recov- 
ered I was lying on a couch in a pleasant little 
room looking out from under a veranda into the 
garden. A piece of flannel dipped in eau de Cologne 
and water lay on my forehead. My hair had been 
let down, and my dress was loosened. My boots also 
had been taken off, and an Indian shawl thrown over 
my feet. I could hear the ticking of a clock, but 
could not see it. Seated close by my side in an ordi- 
nary wickerwork chair was Mrs. Jackson, imper- 
turbably^ reading a yellow-bound novel. 

I started up and would have sprung to my feet, 
but she held up her finger and I somehow obeyed 
her. 


Lucy SmiWs Narrative 65 

' You g-irls are all alike/ she said, in a tone of 
rebuke. ‘ The doctor has been here to see you, and 
will he here again in the evening unless you are 
recovered. ’ 

‘ But what has been the matter with me ? ’ 1 
asked. 

‘Matter? Matter enough, and more than enough. 
You have been over-exerting yourself, and walking 
about on the lawn and everywhere else until 3 ^ouVe 
had a coup de soleil — sunstroke, they call it. Luck- 
ily it was a slight one. We brought you in and laid 
you on tlie sofa, and the doctor said you had better 
lie there instead of being taken up to bed, as the 
least concussion might be dangerous. That was yes- 
terday afternoon. You were delirious all that after- 
noon and evening, and all through the night. That 
is to say, you were not violent at all, but you ram- 
bled in your speech and persisted in talking. We 
stopped that by injecting a little morphia into you 
with a hypodermic syringe. You will see the mark 
there on your left wrist. The morphia took effect 
at once, and then we were assured all danger was 
over, or we should have had down Sir Savile Storks 
from London. And so you have slept on until 
now. And now I am ordered to give you a glass 
of champagne with an egg in it, and to let you 
have a turn in the garden if you wish and feel strong 
enough.’ 

There were some tiny little bottles of champagne 
on the table, one of which with an egg exactly filled 
half a tumbler of heavily cut glass. I drank the 
cordial eagerly, and it seemed to give me strength. 


()G Adventures of Lucy Smith 

There could certainly be no drug* in it unless the 
champagne were drugged, and this it seemed ridicu- 
lous to suspect when there were three or four of the 
little bottles on the table, all with the same gold seal 
and the same white label. They were Perrier Jouet, 
which I had often seen at the Bulbrookes’. 

My cordial gave me new life. I put my feet to the 
ground, rose upon them, and walked firmly across 
the room to the open window and out upon the 
lawn. 

‘ That is marvellous,’ said Mrs. Jackson. ‘ I shall 
send round to the doctor, and tell him that he need 
not come again to-day. He will be astonished, I 
think, when he sees you to-morrow morning.’ 

I, too, was astonished. My physical strength had 
quite returned, and I felt thoroughly myself again. 
I adopted the advice, however, of my companion, 
that 1 had better not talk too much ; so we did little 
more than stroll about on the lawn until the sundial 
fell across the hour of six. Then we sauntered in 
together, and had again a dinner which was a work 
of art. It reminded me of good-hearted Mr. Bul- 
brooke, and I began to tell the old lady about the 
time I had spent with the famil^^ and how pleasant 
they all were, down even to the most refractory 
among the children. 

I noticed, however, that my conversation hardl^^ 
interested her, for she changed it somewhat abruptly, 
and began to ask me what I should like my husband 
to be when I married. 

‘Not a curate,’ I laughed, ‘most certainly; and 
still less a lawyer. A soldier or a sailor for. choice.’ 


Tjiicy Smith's Narrative 07 

I was not talking seriously, for I had never thought 
of the matter. 

‘ I am more than old enough to be your mother,’ 
she said, ‘ and I am sure you know that I feel kindly 
towards you. God forgive me ! I am not entirely 
my own mistress ; ’ and she broke out sobbing. 

1 sprang up and ran towards her, but she re- 
covered herself with a marvellous effort. 

‘ There, my dear. I have been foolish. Old women 
sometimes are. I am sure I don’t know what set me 
off. My advice to you is not to marry at all. Keep 
your secrets to yourself. A husband is uncertain at 
the best, and he is almost always unfaithful. A 
woman is old at thirty- five. A man is in his prime 
at fifty. When you have reached your prime your 
husband gets tired of you. Children are almost al- 
ways a curse instead of a blessing. I have looked at 
your hand, my child, while you were asleep, and read 
the lines in it. Do not marry.’ 

‘ When did you learn palmistry ? It is all foolish- 
ness, is it not ? ’ 

‘ Foolishness, you call it ! There is as much truth 
in it as there is in physiognomy, in which we all be- 
lieve, and which we practise every day of our lives. 
I learned it in Damascus, the oldest city in the 
world, from an old woman older than myself, and 
who, from her solemn and withered appearance, 
might well have been as old as the city.’ 

Content with this answer I allowed her once 
again to see me into bed, leaving an oil lamp which 
threAv out a still, gentle light from under its green 
shade. 


68 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

‘ Think well of me if you can/ she said as she left 
the room. 

‘Of course I shall/ I answered; ‘look how kind 
you have been to me.’ And in a very few minutes I 
was fast asleep. 


Ijucy SiniWs Narrative 


69 


CHAPTER IX. 

I SLEPT heavily that night. The whole place 
seemed more or less drowsy even at its brightest. 
When I awoke I found a letter by my bedside, and 
lying next to it a tortoiseshell purse. I opened the 
letter, wondering what new turn in my chances it 
might portend. It had neither date nor address. 

‘ In the purse lying by the side you will find two 
hundred and eighty pounds in bank notes (all per- 
fectly good this time) and twenty pounds in gold. 
You will find also that a little pocket has been 
stitched inside the bosom of your gown. Button the 
notes up in it and carry them there, and do not have 
another accident. You can go whither you please. 
But as you are likely to suffer from lassitude, sick 
headache, and weariness, some sea-side place will be 
the best for 3^ou. When 3^ou have settled down we 
shall be apprised of the fact, and shall take care that 
the agreed allowance of a pound a day is paid you 
regularly.’ 

The letter was in a bold round hand, and there 
was no signature to it. 

On a small table vras a sort of French ‘ breakfast 
in bed ’ — a little bottle of champagne, potted meats, 
Devonshire cream, and dainty biscuits of various 
kinds. I made a really satisfactory meal, consider- 


70 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

ing the amount of excitement through which I had 
gone. Then I dressed myself leisurely and rang the 
bell. A servant appeared whom I had never seen 
before, a fresh, handsome countrywoman some thirty 
years of age, and she assisted me in packing my 
things, being actually strong enough to cord the 
boxes herself with all the dexterity of a railway 
porter. 

Matters being thus advanced, I asked her whether 
Mrs. Jackson was in the house. She looked at me 
straight in the face and said, ^ The carriage is ready 
for you to take you to the station as soon as you 
want it.’ 

I was fairly exasperated, and stamped my foot on 
the floor. 

‘ I asked you where Mrs. Jackson was ! ’ I repeat- 
ed at the very top of my voice. 

‘ The carriage is ready to take you to the station 
as soon as you want it.’ 

A third repetition would have sent me into a passion 
in which I should have lost my control. ‘ See that 
my boxes are taken down-stairs at once,’ I said. 

‘ Certainly, miss,’ she answered. And there was 
a perceptible hardening and dwelling of her voice on 
the word ‘miss.’ 

I walked down into the grounds, but could see no 
one. The small gate and the carriage gates were 
closed, so I waited under the portico, and almost 
immediately the barouche came dashing up, with 
the negro driver (whose features I remembered at 
once) on the box, and a black congener by him. He 
touched his hat and showed all his teeth. 


iMcy SmiWs Narrative 


71 


I got into the carriage, taking a few things with 
me. Behind us was a nondescript sort of vehicle 
which carried the rest of my luggage. Then I no- 
ticed that on the seat in front of me was a magnifi- 
cent basket of grapes, deftly packed for travel. 

We rattled along through lovely green lanes and 
byroads, but, once again, never passed a single sign- 
post until we emerged into the main road, after pur- 
suing which for some four or five miles I found that 
we were on our way to Dawlish. The carriage 
dashed into the sleepy little town, with its drowsy 
valley and drowsy stream running down the midst 
of the public gardens, and stopped at the door of 
what I suppose was the principal hotel. It was in 
the main street, and would have commanded a pret- 
ty view of the gardens, if that view had not been in- 
conveniently intercepted by a large grocer’s shop 
immediately opposite. 

Before I knew what I was about the landlady 
came bustling out to receive me, and I found myself 
in the parlor. 

‘We have been expecting you. Miss Smith, any 
day for some time past,’ she broke out with genuine 
Devon garrulity. ‘ Your rooms are ready for you 
upstairs. They have been waiting for you for a 
week, and I hope you’ll find them comfortable ; — 
and, George ’ (this to her husband, who stood by 
scratching his head), ‘ see Miss Smith’s things 
brought in directiy.— Come this way, miss.’ 

I followed her upstairs 'mechanically, and found 
the two most comfortahle rooms had been prepared 
foi' me on the first floor. One, the sitting-room, 


75? Adventures of Lucy Smith 

had a large bow-window looking* out on to the gar- 
dens, a piano, and a profuse array of flowers in 
vases. On the table was an epergne filled with 
fruit. The bedroom, en suite, probably looked out 
on to some yards, for the windows were of roughly 
stained glass in lead work. 

Having expressed my satisfaction at all the ar- 
rangements made for me, I ordered my dinner for 
six, and finding fresh fish was procurable, boldly 
told the hostess to boil the largest sole she could 
get, and to send it up with parsley and melted but- 
ter. This stray piece of wisdom I had picked up 
from Miss Susannah. Then I made a short toilet to 
remove my travel stains, and followed the course of 
the stream down to the sea. 

A long embanked wall like a fortification runs for 
some miles eastward from Dawlish. It was erected 
to prevent the railway being bodily washed away. 
Along this I sauntered. I suppose I ought to have 
been thinking, but I am ashamed to say I really 
thought of nothing. I watched the sea-gulls scud- 
ding about, and now and again swooping down on 
a fish. I saw fishing boats shooting their seams. 
Now and again from the red sandstone and cliff a 
jackdaw would give a noisy chuckle, as if to express 
his opinion that it was not a bad world after all, but 
would be much better if it were handed over to him. 
But being told that I was nearly halfway to the 
Warren, I retraced my steps, and came leisurely 
back into the little town. 

My dinner was excellent— a fact which I believe 
will console a man for many things. . Mr. Bulbi*ooke 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


used to say in his own way that he did not care two- 
pence for company if he had a tender beefsteak, with 
new or mashed potatoes and a little greens — aspara- 
gus or spinach for choice— a bottle of sound port, 
and a ripe Stilton. And as I concluded my dinner I 
began to understand that he was a philosopher, and 
in a kind of way ceased to wonder why life sat so 
lightly on him. 

It was but a few yards from the hotel to a little 
strip of gravelled walk called the Parade, and about 
four times the length of the Lowther Arcade. The 
Parade is the King^s Road of Dawlish. I walked up 
and down it till I had enough of it, and, without 
staying to pay a visit to the two quaint little coves 
known as the Parson and Clerk, made my way back to 
the hotel. There was a reading-lamp in my bedroom, 
and as I had some novels with me, I read for a little 
•while until the strain on my eyes tired me. Then I 
arranged a candle and matches, opened the window, 
turned out the lamp, and went to sleep. 

Somehow or other I had a restless night. I was 
tormented with strange dreams, in which the negro 
coachman and old Mrs. Jackson were mixed up, but 
with them was a third person whom I had never seen 
in m}^ life — certainly not that I can remember. He 
was an old man who had once been tall, but was now 
round-shouldered and stooping. His eyes were black 
and piercing, and shone fiercely from under his long 
white hair and shaggy white eyebrows. His hands 
were white, with long thin fingers, but the skin was 
wrinkled with old age. He was dressed in a long 
gown of black velvet, with a small skull-cap of the 


74 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


same material. The only jewellery about him was 
an immense opal on his rig‘ht-hand little fing-er. I 
had never seen such an opal before. It seemed to 
blaze with light, as if there was a furnace inside it ; 
and its lustre filled the room, just as a jet of lime- 
light eclipses tapers. 

The dream was confused ; 1 can only give these facts 
about it. But it was a hideous nightmare, and I 
woke next morning with a racking headache. When 
I attempted to put my feet to the ground I found 
myself strangely weak. It seemed to me as if I ha'd 
no strength left, as if all power of volition had gone 
out of me — as if, in short, I ought to send at once for 
a doctor. 

I rang the bell and inquired for the landlady. 
That kind-hearted woman started at the sight of me ; 
nor could I wonder at this when she had complied 
with my request to furnish me with the hand-glass. 
My face was pinched and haggard, and there were 
great black circles under my eyes. The worthy 
woman began at once to suggest all kinds of cordials 
and restoratives, and ultimately, under gentle press- 
ure, I consented to take an egg beaten up in wine. 
Even then, however, she misdoubted my power of 
getting up. I must rest a little bit, she said, and see 
how I felt later on ; and she pressed me very much 
to send for a doctor. 

This I refused, knowing that I could tell the doctor 
nothing unless I had to tell him the whole truth, in 
which case he would probably want to pack me off to 
a lunatic asylum at once. I knew myself, by some 
sort of instinct, the cause of my sufferings ; but to 


Lucy S7nith’s Narrative 


75 


tell them to an unsympathetic and possibly incom- 
petent man, in a small place like Dawlish, was out of 
the question. 

I dressed and went out. Pretty little Dawlish was 
hateful to me. I felt as if I were leprous and 
unclean, as if I tainted the very air about me. There 
was the noisy brook hurrying- down to the sea, and 
the g-ardens, and the stretch of Parade. I could not 
help thinking what the two dear old sisters would 
not give to be with me, each with her needlework 
and a novel. It was a beautiful day; but I felt 
utterly wretched. The gulls were flitting about on 
the sea verge, and a colony of old rooks had come 
down for a sea-side excursion, and were picking up 
fat worms and little soft-shelled crabs, and cawing 
cheerfully to one another, as much as to say that 
Bank Holiday does not come often, and when it does 
you ought to make a time of it. 

The glorious air and weather seemed to restore me, 
and I sat down on an untenanted seat and began to 
consider what course I was to take. How was I to 
get out of this abominable bargain — abominable 
because I had never conjectured its full treacherous 
extent — without risk of being myself considered 
insane, and thus adding imprisonment in some 
oubliette of a madhouse to my present tortures? 

The problem seemed to me insoluble. I sat look- 
ing at the sea and thinking the whole matter over 
and over for hours. At last I gave it up in despair. 

If I commenced at the beginning, the story of the 
forged bank notes would tell against me. Even Mr. 
Bulbrooko would have shaken his head, and have 


76 Adventures of Lnicy Smith 

remarked profoundly that things looked ‘dick^^,’ 
and that a young woman could not very well have a 
sheaf of " duffing ’ notes about her without knowing 
how she came hy them. People, Le would have 
pointed out with a portentous wag of his great head, 
do not as a rule go about with their pockets stuffed 
with notes ; and thieves who pick your pockets of 
good notes depart the moment their business is over, 
and do not run the risk out of mere malignity of 
stuffing your purse with forgeries and putting it 
back into your pocket. 

Then, too, there was the whole of my subsequent 
story, which at times I could hardly credit myself. 
How was I to expect anybody to believe that ? I 
thought the matter over and over again, and, as I 
have said, I gave it up at last in an agony of despair. 

I went back to the hotel and had an early dinner. 
Then, by the advice of the landlady, I took a fly and 
was driven up the hill through Luscombe Park — one 
of the loveliest seats in England. The evening air 
was blowing down seaward from the hills, and I was 
drowsy when I returned. 

I remember undressing leisurely and getting into 
bed. I remember also putting my novel on one side, 
but leaving my candle alight in case I might wake 
again. The window was wide open, and I could catch 
the breath of the sea, and hear the long monotonous 
murmur of the waves upon the beach. Then I turned 
round and fell asleep. 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 


77 


CHAPTER X. 

That nig-ht came, as I was dreading* when I got into 
bed, my first coherent dream. I found myself in a 
large garden, where tropical birds of strange hues 
flitted 'from tree to tree, a garden luxuriant in shrubs 
and flowers, with great magnolia blossoms and 
heliotrope, and clumps of mignonette, and every here 
and there a great bower of glorious roses. Now and 
again a fountain would toss its jet into the air. The 
grass was like velvet, and the walks were gravelled 
with dry, white sea sand. 

I roamed about wondering until I returned to the 
house which stood at one end of the grounds, with 
high walls hiding it completely from the road, and 
everywhere about it a blaze of roses. 1 did not seem 
to have any fear at being alone in so strange a place, 
but I had a dim sense of curiosit}^ upon me. I en- 
tered the hall through the porch. Hall and porch 
were lit by swinging lamps. I stamped my foot and 
called, but no one came. The staircase was also 
lighted, and again a dim impulse led me upstairs. 

I seemed to know my way, though I could not tell 
how. I found a bedroom ready for me — a large room 
furnished with the most exquisite taste. I will not 
say more than this, for these memories are horrible 
and painful to me. 


78 Adventures of Ldtcy Smith 

I undressed myself, noticed with surprise that 
every toilette requisite was ready for me, loitered 
leisurely over the last few minutes, and so scrambled 
into bed. 

Next morning* when I woke I was in my little bed 
at Dawlish, and I again had a racking headache ; 
also, as the glass told me, there were again heavy 
black rings under my eyes. I dressed hastily, hur- 
ried down to the beach, took a machine, and had a 
splendid plunge in the sea, allowing the billows to 
roll over me and batter me and break upon me. 
Then I made my way back to the little hotel. 

The bath seemed to put strength and life into me, 
but somehow I was wearied of Dawlish. You may 
say of Dawlish to one of its inhabitants as the French- 
man said to V oltaire of life, that it is a miserable 
little thing ; and if he is witty — which Dawlish people 
are not, being proverbially dull-headed — he will tell 
you that it is miserable enough, but that it happens 
to be all that the Dawlish people have got. 

So when I returned to the inn 1 announced my 
intention of proceeding that afternoon to London. 
This there was just time to accomplish by catching 
the Flying Dutchman at Exeter, so the landlord told 
me ; and I was soon on my way, with my one or two 
trunks in the guard’s van and a supply of light lit- 
erature. 

It was a tedious rattle into Exeter. But here I 
caught the express, and was whirled through the 
country faster, I believe, than a bird could fly to 
Paddington. We stopped at Swindon as by regula- 
tion, and then rushed through Didcot until we began 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


79 


to pass through acres upon acres of siding and shed, 
and at last I found myself at Paddington. 

There was a bedroom at the hotel, of coui^se, and 
I engaged it for three or four days. Then I ordered 
up some green tea and dry toast. Green tea is not 
good for you, I know ; but it acts on a woman when 
she wants a stimulant as brandy acts on a man. It 
pulls her together and settles her nerves. 

A fter my tea I decided to more or less waste the 
day by going to bed and having a thorough sleep. I 
apprised the chambermaid of my intention, and had 
the blinds of the room and the curtains of the bed 
pleasantly arranged so as to exclude the light. Then 
I went to sleep again, wondering, as was now my 
normal condition, what on earth could be the matter 
with me. 

During this sleep I had another strange dream. I 
was walking in a wood, but a wood of trees unlike 
any I had ever seen in England. They were gigantic 
palms with long pendent leaves, and they were en- 
tangled in a network of heavy scentless creepers, 
which hung in great tresses like ivy. 

There was a small path, along which I kept, until 
at last I saw an open glade, down which ran a brook, 
spreading out into a small pool, on the edge of which 
quaint long-legged birds were wading — cranes and 
storks and herons. Instead of going near the water, I 
sat down on a piece of rock covered with tender lichen, 
and I suppose I fell asleep. At any rate, I fell into 
a day-dream. 

I saw the old woman coming up towards me from 
the water-side, and she looked to me in the full day- 


80 


Adventures of Ldicy Smith 


light more repulsive than I could have imagined. 
She did not offer me her hand or address any words 
of greeting, but simplj^ said, ‘ And how do you like 
your dreams ? ’ 

^ I cannot tell you. At present I do not like them 
at all ; but they may perhaps change. If they con- 
tinue as they are they will get intolerable to me, and 
I shall go to some clergyman about them.’ 

^You may go to all the clergymen in the world. 
You are as helpless as a fish in a glass globe, which 
can only circle round and round until it dies. You 
will catch glimpses through the globe, but nothing 
more ; and when you talk of priests remember this ’ 
—and she laughed contemptuously — ‘the physician 
can learn nothing from the priest that he does not 
already know. The magician 6an learn nothing 
from the phj^sician. You are a mere child as 3 ^et, 
not even a priest in intelligence, although no doubt 
all your hopes and desires for this world, and for the 
next, are very excellent and highly creditable to 
you.’ 

I wrung my hands bitterly, and fell at her feet. 

‘ Help me,’ I cried out, ‘ in mercy. Help me in the 
name of Christ.’ 

‘I cannot help you if I would. I am powerless. 
But the One whose name you have uttered may.’ 
Then she stretched out both her hands towards me, 
and I remember nothing more. 

I woke with a start and looked at my watch. It 
was twelve. Somehow my dream had not so much 
wearied me as its predecessors had. It had been on 
the whole not so unpleasant. I rang the bell, and to 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


81 


my surprise the chambermaid entered with a letter. 
It was in a handwriting’ I did not know, and for 
some unaccountable reason I did not open it. 

Then I ordered a bath. Until I had had money I 
never knew the enjoyment of a hot hath. In schools 
and in private families it is mostly an unpleasant, if 
not a positively repulsive, process. After my hath 
came some coffee, and, to tell the truth, some 
brandy, for I felt weak. I took so small a quantity, 
however, that even the two dear old sisters would 
not have been scandalised. 

Then I sallied out to attend to my money matters. 
I had by this time about three hundred pounds in 
my pocket, and there was another hundred at the 
bureau of the Charing Cross Hotel. I ordered a 
four-wheeled cab, and with commendable caution 
placed a commissionaire on the box beside the driver. 

Then I proceeded to the Charing Cross Hotel, 
where I made inquiries for my hundred pounds, 
producing their receipt. The man handed me over 
the money with the greatest politeness, and in reply 
to my question whether there was any account 
against me in the books, told me that a middle-aged 
gentleman, looking something like a solicitor, had 
called and settled it, and had left the receipt for me, 
taking away my luggage with him. 

Here was another mystery. But these little com- 
plications of real life interested me and piqued my 
curiosity. There was nothing horrible about them, 
and I think I rather rested my brain than fatigued 
it by turning them over from different points of 
view. 


82 Adventures of Jbucy Smith 

Then I went to a bank in the Strand, or some- 
where by the Strand, called Goslings, with some lit- 
'tle squirrels over it, where I knew that the Miss 
Silvertons banked, mentioned their name, and said I 
wanted to open an account. They told me I could 
do so when they had heard from the Miss Silvertons, 
and in the meantime they would take charge of my 
money for me, but could only give me a deposit note 
for it, of which I had better take very great care, as 
if I lost it, it would cause me some trouble. 

I told them I would telegraph to the Miss Silver- 
tons at Bognor asking them to write immediately, 
and the bald-headed portentous-looking clerk bowed 
his approval. 

And now I felt ver^^ lonely and terribly in want of 
company. I looked into some shops, bought a few 
trifles, and decided to make my way back to my 
hotel. Here I lounged away the time in the ladies’ 
reading-room. I should have liked to go to almost 
an}^ other hotel, especially to one of the newer piles, 
such as the Grand or the Metropole ; but I resolved 
to defer that part of the business until the next da^^, 
and to go that evening to the theatre. 

I dined, and afterwards to the theatre I went. I 
remembered having heard so much about him from 
the Bulbrookes that I went to see Irving, who, to 
tell the truth, a little disappointed me. I have since 
heard that he always disappoints you the first three 
or four times. But I anyhow saw enough to interest 
me ; and the play was ^ Hamlet,’ which I knew thor- 
oughly well before, and so was able to enjoy the per- 
formance the better. 


Lucy Smith's Narrative 


83 


Then I managed somehow to find a four-wheeled 
cab and get back to my hotel. I had accustomed 
myself now to the habit of burning lights in my 
room, and I do not think I could have got to sleep 
without them. It is a pure delusion that you go to 
sleep best in the dark — a delusion invented for the 
good of children, who are also told that they must 
not go near the fire in winter for fear they should be 
laid up with colds ; and a number of other fables, 
pious and the reverse. Thank Heaven, I had no 
more dreams that night. 


84 


Adventures of Lnicy Smith 


CHAPTER XI. 

When I woke next morning- I recollected the 
letter. It was still lying on the table where I had 
tossed it down. It had come hy messenger, and the 
envelope was of the most fashionable device, but 
without crest or monogram. 

I opened it and found the contents to be written in 
a clerkly hand, utterly devoid of character ; but I had 
to read them several times before I mastered the full 
cruelty, the utter mercilessness of their purport. 

‘We know all about you, and we shall know 
wherever you are. You will not escape us, however 
you may try. to hide yourself, nor is there any hu- 
man power that can aid you. Your money will be 
paid you regularly. W e shall know who your bank- 
ers are, and shall forward it in every month. If 
ever you are in sudden want of a sum beyond your 
balance, you will also find, if you inquire, that it has 
been put^to your credit. So no money cares need 
trouble you. 

‘ One piece of advice we give you with all serious- 
ness: talk about what has happened to you to no 
one. You will not be believed, and we shall have to 
insist upon your dreams all the same, while 3'ou will 
in all probability find yourself locked up in a lunatic 
asylum for life.’ 


L/ucy Smithes Narrative 


85 


I threw the letter down. I clenched my fists. I 
stamped on the ground. Its cold-blooded brutality 
made me for the moment almost beside myself. In a 
state of bewilderment coupled with helpless rage, as 
that of a man who hears the door of his prison cell 
close upon him with the words that he is to be left 
to starve, I’ made a violent effort to keep my mind 
clear for the day, at all events. 

I paid my bill at the hotel and was driven down to 
Victoria, whence I arrived at Brighton at about 
\ three o’clock, putting up at the Grand Hotel. I 
remember strolling bn the Parade, dining at the 
table d’hote, and then going out again and making 
some little purchases of flowers and trifles. Then I 
returned to my room, and again thought things 
over. What was I to do with this money ? I did 
not want it. I could hardly spend it all without 
wasting it. I did not like to save it, and so be part- 
ner to the curse I felt it carried ; and for the same 
reason I abstained from giving it away in charity, 
lest it should take mischief with it whithersoever it 
might go. 

And yet in the meantime I must live ; and unless I 
used some of the money, at least a minimum, I should 
be driven to starvation. For, with this horrible 
secret on me, it would have been wicked in the 
extreme, as I firmly believed, to resume my old pur- 
suit of governess, and to associate, tainted as I felt 
m3^self, with innocent girls. 

I opened the window and looked out at the night. 
It was a half-moon, and the sky was cloudless and 
brilliant with stars, while the flash of the waves on 


80 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

the beach soothed me as much as at Mr. Bulbrooke^s 
did the rustle of a large aspen which grew near my 
bedroom windows. 

I had been to a chemist and asked him for an 
opiate suitable to my age, and to a person unaccus- 
tomed to such mixtures. He had given me, he said, 
after a look at my eyes and feeling my pulse, a full 
dose of chlorodyne. Had 'I been suffering from 
sleepless nights ? I had told him I had been much 
troubled. He said, ‘ Ah ! a little chlorodyne would 
be the thing for me. I seemed feverish, and had 
dark rings under my eyes. Would I look in next 
morning? He was afraid I should have to see a 
doctor.’ 

I just left the window a little open at the top to 
admit the glorious sea air, lit the lamp for the night, 
and went to bed. The chlorodyne, I suppose it was, 
soon began to take effect on me. I felt beautifully 
warm and drowsy. Then I began to doze, and then 
fell gently asleep. 

Then ensued a dream so weird and horrible that I 
can only just indicate its outlines. I was in a large 
liouse built like a Greek mansion, with a great cen- 
tral court, around which were chambers, and above 
it a balcony, also running all round the hall, from 
which again sprang other columns to bear the 
weight of the roof. The walls, pillars, and floor 
were of the costliest marble, many varieties of which 
were strange to me ; but there were one or two huge 
pillars of solid malachite, worthy of the summer 
palace of the Czar. 

There was ever^^ symptom about of luxury, with a 


Jbucy Smith’s Narrative 


87 


wild Oriental strain in it. In the niches were huge 
divans covered with strange skins, and wires from 
the roof coming down lower than the cressets bore 
baskets of magnificent flowers. Like Beauty in the 
palace of the Beast, I wonderingly ascended the 
main staircase and reached the gallery. Here doors 
of polished wood — camphor, teak, and walnut — 
opened into side apartments. 

I passed all these by until at last I felt attracted 
by one which I recognized as being of the most mag- 
nificent boxwood from Asia Minor — the wood, for its 
density of grain and power of taking a high polish, 
everywhere employed by engravers in their art. 

I touched the handle, and the door opened noise- 
lessly on its hinges. I was in a sumptuous bed- 
chamber, to which the one I had occupied in the 
strange house in the country was only fit to rank 
as a dressing-room. There were gentle lights, 
chairs and couches, skins scattered on the thick 
caipet, and statuettes in niches. I had just time to 
notice these things as I hurriedly disrobed myself 
and climbed into the bed. 

‘ At least,’ said I to myself, ‘ I will hope this night 
and in this strange place for a rest from evil vision.’ 
And if the reader objects that I was dreaming, I was 
dreaming; any physiologist or medical man will 
assure him that such a condition is unfrequent, but 
not at all unknown, and that there is nothing more 
wonderful in it than in the recorded instance of the 
man who dreamed that he saw a procession pass 
before him of Oriental splendour which lasted for 
many hours, and waking with a start at its termi- 


88 


Adventures of Lnicy Smith 


nation found that he had only been dozing* for a 
couple of minutes. 

I had not in my loathsome vision been many min- 
utes in the room before the old man, whom I had 
seen before in those now hateful nights of mine, en- 
tered. I felt as powerless as a little mouse or bird 
fascinated by a rattlesnake. I <JOuld not move or 
cry out. He looked at me complacently, stroked his 
beard, and rubbed his hands with their long fingers 
and hawk-like talons together m a ghoulishly self- 
possessed manner. 

Then he took from the folds of his long robe a 
small silver censer and jewelled box. He placed the 
former on the table, took small pinches of powder 
from different compartments into which the box was 
divided, and placed them upon it. Then he spread 
his hands over the vessel, and the mixture burst 
into a light blue blaze with sparks of red, throwing 
out a dense smoke and an indescribable odour, which 
in my waking moments I could never recollect. 

Then things followed in this horrible vision which 
I should forget and blot out of my mind, if I could, 
for ever. At times I hope the memory of them may 
be growing fainter. Sometimes I believe it is. I 
cannot dwell on them. I have never told them in 
detail to a living being, nor shall I ever do so. 
Suffice it to sa3^ that I passed through tortures 
which for me, with a mind little more experienced 
than that of a child, seemed to combine in them all 
the worst horrors possible in hell — infamy, shame, 
physical degradation, mental struggles amounting 
almost to delirium, and all intensified, as is the 


89 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 

anguish of a wound when touched with a powerful 
escharotic, by a consciousness of my absolute help- 
lessness. 

When I awoke my temples were throbbing. I 
looked in the glass, and again there were great dark 
rings round my eyes. My face was perceptibly 
haggard — or, to use an expressive phrase among 
the uneducated, drawn. My mouth was parched, 
my skin was dry and hot, and I was trembling like 
an aspen from weakness and exhaustion. 

I managed to reach the bell and to stagger back 
again into bed. The chambermaid did not seem 
surprised when I told her to bring me a small cup of 
coffee and some brandy. Apparently such an order 
from a single woman like myself was nothing new to 
her. My coffee and brandy came in due course, and 
I then wearily made up my mind to lie in bed a 
couple of hours or so longer, doze if I could, have a 
bath, and tlien turn straight out on to the pier, and 
try to invigorate myself with the sea air. This 
programme I followed out, and I am sure the sleep 
did me good. 


90 


Adventures of Lnicy Smith' 


CHAPTER XII. 

On the pier I chose a seat and recommenced a 
novel — I really forg*et by whom — which I had pur- 
chased the day before. Finding reading tedious, I 
laid down the book and looked round me. There 
were the usual sea, sky, clouds, houses, road, and 
beach, and people of the usual kind passing to and fro. 
Then I turned my eyes to the left of me, and saw 
seated on the same bench a young man whom I 
recognised at once. He had sat ‘opposite to me the 
evening before at the table d’hote, and I had some- 
how fancied he was looking at me during the meal 
more than was necessary, though, as I did not like 
to watch him, I could not be sure. Let me describe 
him. 

There was nothing remarkable about him. He 
was certainly not six feet high, but he was clearly 
over five feet ten. He was no Farnese Hercules, but 
he had a chest, arms, and shoulders of which Mr. 
Thomas Sayers, whose photograph Mr. Bulbrooke 
had once shown me, need not have been ashamed. 

He was plainly dressed in a costume of a nautical 
cut, but of no nautical affectation about it. I took 
particular notice of his dress. It is a compliment 
Avhich almost all women return to almost all men. 
He had a flannel shirt of a dull grey tint, a white 


Liucy Smithes Narrative 


91 ^ 


waistcoat, a loose sailor’s necktie, boating shoes ; and 
his other cloth vestments, including the light jacket, 
were of blue serge. His face and hands were bronzed, 
and there is really now nothing for me to add. 

There is an old story told of Talleyrand, who, at a 
congress where the representatives of all the great 
Continental Powers, and of the three or four score or 
so of trumpery duchies and electorates and margra- 
vates into which Germany was then split up, made 
their appearance smothered in decorations as thickly 
as a chimney-sweep on a May morning with rosettes, 
saw Castlereagh enter with nothing but the small 
star of the garter. ‘ Ma foi I ’ muttered the great 
Frenchman, with all the sarcasm of his voice, ‘ voil^ 
un monsieur bien decore I ’ I thought of this story 
when I contrasted my neighbour with the idlers who 
were lounging up and down in costumes of every 
colour, and of every degree of outrageous eccen- 
tricity. 

Just let me instance one who had rigged himself 
out in sand shoes, a boating suit of broad stripes of 
white and ultramarine — the pattern would very well 
have suited the upper roof of a veranda — and an 
immense pith helmet profusely chalked, from which 
a yard or so of gauze hung down his back like a 
Chinaman’s pigtail; while, in case he should need 
further protection against the heat, he had thought- 
fully provided himself with an umbrella of the bright- 
est vermilion. 

I turned unconsciously to look again at my neigh- 
bour, and our eyes met. He at once rose to his feet 
and lifted his hat. 


92 Adventures of iMcy Smith 

‘ We met last night at table d’hote/ he said. * The 
table d’hote customs here are almost Parisian. You 
may talk to your neighbours, if you like it and they 
do. May I hope for the pleasure of sitting by you 
to-night ? ’ 

This was said so simply and naturally that it was 
out of the question to take it as an impertinence. 
Not even Miss Dorcas could have done so in her 
twenties. 

‘ Certainly,’ I answered, ‘ if you can contrive it.’ 

‘ I will turn down two seats,’ he answered, ^ and 
look out for you. ’ 

I smiled assent, and we then talked a little about 
the weather and other such things until I rose to go. 

* Can I see you anywhere ? ’ he asked. 

I conjured up a terrible falsehood on the spur of 
the moment. 

‘ Thank you, I am going shopping, and I am afraid 
I must go alone.’ He bowed acquiescence. 

" At least I may see you off the pier ? ’ 

* With pleasure.’ 

So we walked on to the King’s Road, and I started 
on a fictitious shopping tour, from which I desisted 
as soon as I saw that he was walking away west- 
ward in exactly the opposite direction to myself. 

1 was tired and weak. You must recollect what 
I had been going through for now several days — 
sleep at night that was no sleep, and by day terror 
and anguish. But I intend to tell this story as sim- 
ply as I can. 

I made my way to Mutton’s, where I refreshed 
myself with ices, a peach, and maraschino, which I 


iMcy Smith'’s Narrative 93 

knew even the dear old sisters themselves considered 
a permissible stimulant in a moderate quantity for 
persons out of their teens ; ' it being-, my dear,’ Miss 
Susannah once said to me, ‘ refreshing- and pleas- 
ant, while at the same time it really partakes more 
of the nature of a sweetmeat than of an intoxicating 
fluid.’ 

Then I considered what I should do. Time had to 
be killed before dinner. I give all these little details 
because my reader will better understand my state 
of mind when I assure him that all the details of this 
new life of mine, each of which would only a few 
months back have been an unheard-of pleasure, to be 
remembered tenderly for days, now only wearied me. 
I did something, in short, to avoid the alternative of 
lying in bed and doing nothing. 

So, after wasting as much of the beautiful after- 
noon as possible, I again found myself in the hotel. 
The day was an important one, and I can remem- 
ber every incident in it. I went into the ladies’ 
reading-room, which at that time of the day was 
practically deserted, and looked through all the 
papers ; then I went upstairs, lay down on my 
bed, and continued my novel. At last came the 
time to dress for dinner, and I must tax the reader 
with the details of the toilette, over which I took 
especial care. 

I think I have never said that I was slightly over 
the middle height, with well-developed figure and 
limbs from my long, simple, healthy life in the 
country. My face and hands were sunburnt almost 
as those of a gipsy ; my hair was deep black, v/ith a 


94 .^Adventures of Lucy Smith 

tinge of leaden blue in it if the light shot upon it 
askant. The colour of my eyes I could never deter- 
mine. They are some sort of nondescript brown. 
So much for myself. Now for my apparel that 
evening. 

I chose a white muslin dress I had not worn before, 
high in the neck of course, where I fastened it with 
a minute brooch. 1 had not another article of jewel- 
lery about me, but after finishing my hair with un- 
usual attention, I inserted in it a great Gloire de 
Dijon rose, which I must confess I had purchased 
and brought back for that purpose. The women of 
my own age, I am certain, were jealous and spiteful. 
I am equally certain that the duennas could see noth- 
ing with which to find fault. 

It was to me a delightful dinner. It was the first 
time I had ever talked unreservedly with any man 
except kindly old Mr. Bulbrooke. My new acquaint- 
ance was adroit. He extracted a good deal from me 
without seeming to do so, and he told me all about 
himself most frankl 3 ^ He had been an officer in the 
Rifle Brigade, and had served in India for six years. 
He had not had the chance of fighting — not even as 
subaltern of leading out a little expedition against 
dacoits; but he had had lots of fun with elephant 
and tiger, and with the bear, which he told me was 
the most dangerous of all big game ; and he made 
me open my eyes and laugh heartily when he de- 
scribed pig-sticking from its vivid and humorous side ; 
while I listened in wonder when he talked of going 
out before breakfast to shoot peacock for dinner — the 
idea of shooting peacock for dinner ! although cer- 


95 


Lnicy Smith’s Narrative 

tainly peacock are eaten at state Ifanquets — and 
finally wound up by saying that the best sport 
India yielded was snipe-shooting round about tha 
rice and indigo fields and along the course of the 
streams. 

It seemed strange for a man who had shot such 
big game 'to single out snipe-shooting as his special 
delight; but I have since learnt why it is. Any 
man with a steady nerve and a good double-bar- 
relled rifle can put a couple of bullets into a tiger ; 
but taking aim at snipe, which dodge about like but- 
terflies, is far more trying to the temper than let- 
ting fly at something, to miss which ought to make 
you ashamed of yourself. 

I asked him why he had left his regiment and 
come back if India was so delightful, and why he 
had given up military life with all its enjoyments. 

The answer was simple. His father had died. 
He was the only son, with the exception of a young- 
er brother who was a barrister, and he had been 
obliged to come back and see to the arrangement of 
the estates. He also added emphatically^, and as if 
to prevent further questioning, that he hated his 
brother, and that his brother hated him equally cor- 
dially. Apart altogether from politics, in which he 
took no interest whatever — so little, indeed, that he 
would not give a couple of annas to be in the House 
of Commons— he thought that an English landowner 
ought to live a certain portion of every year among 
his tenants, instead of leaving them wholly to the 
tender mercies (which are cruel) of a salaried agent, 
who constitutes himself a petty tyrant of the most 


96 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

odious kind, and endeavors to make himself a grand 
vizier, exacting exorbitant toll between the luckless 
tenant and the indolent or wholly absentee landlord. 
For this reason, when a share of the family estates 
had devolved upon him he had sold his portion, and 
was so absolutely a free man, with no duties of any 
kind imposed upon him. 

‘ No, Miss Smith,’ he said ; ‘ an English gentleman 
ought to think at least as mueh of his tenants as he 
does of his horses and his shorthorns. They are not 
pigs. The pig is stied and fed, and then turned out 
into bacon, which pays for his rent and food during 
his inglorious existence and leaves a profit after- 
wards. But a single child running in a village lane 
is of more value than a whole spinney full of pigs ; 
although,’ he added, with a laugh, ‘ my opinions 
would be thought quite revolutionary, if not in fact 
downright atheistical, if I were to expound them to 
a bench of county magistrates. That,’ he added, 
‘ is why I have declined the burden of a county es- 
tate.’ 

Table d’h6te was dissolving. It would not have 
done to be left alone with him, so I pleaded some 
excuse and beat a retreat. Why on earth can we 
English not have the same freedom as I have since 
seen in the United States, where, if a man is engaged 
to a girl, he may drive her out, take her to dinner 
at a restaurant, take her to the theatre, and even 
take her to a short supper afterwards — subject al- 
ways to the consequences of being shot down in the 
street without notice, and buried without sympathy, 
if he be found sufficiently mad to betray his trust ? 


iMcy Smith's Narrative 


97 


I fell asleep thinking* of my new friend, as I dis- 
tinctly considered him. There were no hideous 
nightmares that night, and the roses in my cheek 
next morning were as bright as had been the rose 
in my hair the night before. 


98 


Advimticr^s of Lucy Smith 


CHAPTETR XIII. 

A FORTNIGHT passed without any dreams. I be- 
g’an to wonder if my oM demon were dead^ but had 
the anxiety painfully removed by a notice tliat the 
first instalment of my yearly income had been 
placed to my credit at Goslings. Clearly, then, I 
was not free, and there was still trouble to expect. 
If ever a garden of fair flowers had an adder in it, 
it was my miserable life at this time. 

A day or two more went on, during which my ac- 
quaintance with my new friend Captain Edwardes 
increased. I got to like him better and better. He 
rarely spoke about himself unless he was asked a 
quesjaon ; but as a talker I had not up to that time 
pet equal— as I think I have said before. 

He asked me one evening whether I tliought the 
newspapers instructed the masses, and whether that 
was the reason why the newspaper with the largest 
circulation in the world enjoyed its position. I told 
him that I occasionally looked at the newspapers, 
and saw very little of instruction in them iiideS. 
There were leading articles — usually four in number. 
The first twp of them I generally considered dicta- 
torial and occasionally offensive; and I added that 
I had heard from Mr. Bulbrooke, a large solicitor, 
that these leading articles were frequently written 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 09 

to order, and sometimes to influence the rates of the 
markets. 

He laughed, and said he knew as much. But how 
about the remaining two ? 

I said the third was usually dull, respectable, and 
stuffed with useful information; and that I had 
noticed that this information invariably came from 
stock works of reference, such as Chambers’s ‘ Book 
of Days.’ 

He laughed again, and said that was so, for in his 
regiment, when the third article caused discussion 
and bets were laid, they had at first been in the 
habit of deciding the bet by ‘The Book of Days,’ 
which was part of the mess library, but had found 
the result a foregone conclusion. But what about 
number four ? 

I answered that I had tried to read it once or 
twice, but had never got more than half way 
through it. 

‘ Then what may you have read ? ’ he asked, with- 
out the least tone of offence in the question. 

‘ Oh, the two dear old sisters had plenty of books, 
most of them in very old-fashioned bindings. The 
oldest, I think, was Sir John de Mandeville’s 
“ Travels.” Then there was Foxe’s “ Book of 
Martyrs ” and “ The Pilgrim’s Progress,” and 
[an idea suggesting another similar to it] “ Bobin- 
son Crusoe.” And there were South’s Sermons, 
which I liked very much, and Barrow’s, of which I 
had only read one or two, and a number of other 
books. For instance,’' I added, ‘there was “De 
Lolme on the Constitution.” ’ 


100 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


‘ Have you read that last most orthodox treatise ? ’ 

‘ About six chapters of it. It was pedantic and 
tiresome. Besides, it seemed to me to be distinctly 
written with a motive. I think he wanted some sort 
of appointment under the Government.’ 

‘ And how about French novels ? ’ 

‘I have read some of those of Erckmann-Cha- 
trian.’ 

‘ Whlly I will not pursue my investigation further. 
If you have read what you tell me, you have read a 
very great deal. What are you reading now ? ’ 

I blushed nervously and owned that I had been 
rather more than dipping into Trollope, Walter 
Scott, Miss Braddon, and Ouida, of the last of which 
the sisters would hardly have approved. 

‘ Well, you have read a vast deal more than I 
have. I wish I had leisure to read so much. I 
think I can own up to Lever, and Guy Living- 
stone,” and Miss Braddon, and a few more. Lever 
I like the best of the lot, out-and-out. I’ll bring you 
his Lord Kilgobbin ” to-morrow morning. It’s 
full of laughter from beginning to end.’ Then we 
abandoned our seats on the pier and he quietly took 
command, I tacitly acquiescing. 

‘The downs,’ he said, ‘are dusty. We will go a 
drive along the cliff.’ 

So along the cliff we went towards Rottingdean 
till we had gone far enough. We went very 
methodically, and came back in the same practical 
manner. 

Then I told him that I rather wanted a little rest. 
Of course I did not; but he could not very well leave 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 


101 


me, and I did not want to tax his kindness. So, to 
keep up appearances, we drove hack to the Grand, 
and I went upstairs to my room. 

I took care that evening- not to dine at the table 
d’hote, but I ascertained that he had done so. I had 
some light refreshment late in the evening, enjoyed 
the luxury of dishabille and novels until I was tired, 
and then sought the quiet of my bed. 

I fell sound asleep. The drive and the glorious 
fresh air had tired me. But before long the dreams 
began again. I shall now only speak of them as the 
dreams. I have said enough of them. And there 
was always between them a loathsome and hideous 
resemblance. 

The next morning I was so prostrated that I sent 
for a doctor, giving instructions that the ablest in 
Brighton should be procured, and adding emphati- 
cally that I did not want a ladies’ doctor or a physi- 
cian in leading practice, but some young man who 
had made his wqy, had got his position, and would 
treat a case boldly. These instructions I wrote out, 
and sent them down in an envelope to the manager. 

In the afternoon came round a Dr. Mackenzie Ers- 
kine. He was about thirty five; short, lithe, and 
muscular, with broad shoulders and a powerful 
physique, and his eyes gleamed like polished steel 
with a steady light blue tint. 

He felt my pulse and my forehead . Then he put a 
little thermometer into my mouth, left it on my 
tongue for a minute ajid noted its registration. 
Then he put his face quite close to mine, looking 
into my eyes ; and then he produced a round' black 


102 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


disc with a little hole in the centre of it. put it close 
to my eyes, put a similar one to his own, and looked 
through the two for at least a minute. 

Then he took out a pocket-book. ‘Where have 
you been living ? ’ said he, ‘ and with what kind of ^ 
people have you been stopping? and has your life 
been quiet and regular, or irregular and exciting? 
If you do not answer me these questions I cannot un- 
dertake to treat you.’ 

I told him the exact truth, that my life had been 
most quiet, simple, and regular, but that I had been 
troubled by horrible dreams that robbed me of sleep 
at night, and made my life a burden to me by day. 

Then he asked very sharply and suddenl3^, ‘Do 
you drink privately, or do you drink at meals more 
than is good for you ? 

I replied most frankly that I did nothing of the 
sort, and suggested that he should with my full 
authority make any inquiries he chose at the hotel 
bureau. # 

‘ I must not conceal from j^ou,- he said, ‘ that .you 
are in a very critical state. You have a fever upon 
3^011, due to some mental shock or trouble ; and I 
warn you that if 3^ou do not take the utmost care of 
yourself, it is liable at any moment to develop into 
brain fever, which will involve a most serious crisis 
for you. If you have any friends 3mu had better 
communicate with them, but I fear .you ai"e hardl3^ 
strong enough to write. Give me their addresses, 
or the addresses of some of them, and I will write 
m.3^self in confidence to night.’ 

Then he dropped his voice and said very quietly, 


lAicy Smithes Narrative 


103 


* Can I help you in any other way— say, for instance, 
money? If so, services are at your disposal 
with pleasure.’ 

I answered him with a grateful smile that I had 
more money than I wanted, and he then left, saying 
he would send around an opiate which I was to be 
sure to take, and that he would come and see me the 
first thing in the morning. 

As I began to doze that night while falling asleep 
after the opiate 1 saw the hideous old woman in my 
room, as distinctly as when I had seen her for the 
first time in the omnibus. She came and stood close 
by my pillow and her aspect was menacing. But 
either my opiates protected me — which I doubt — or 
else there was no intention to molest me that night. 

Next morning I was tenfold better. Dr. Macken- 
zie Erskine came round and declared as much, and 
said that what I wanted was rest, absence from 
excitement, and amusement in a quiet kind of way. 

‘ Don’t be frightened,’ he said, ‘ but your nervous 
system is utterly below par, and I am going to dose 
you with strychnine and phosphorus until I am 
afraid you will taste the peculiarly unpleasant aroma 
of cheap lucifer matches in everything that you eat 
and drink. But it is not half so nasty as steel, and 
it will not discolour teeth, on which, if I were a 
dentist, I should compliment you. I have taken the 
liberty of noticing them. Miss Smith,’ he added, 
‘because sound teeth and sound hair are almost 
certain signs of a sound constitution and a sound life. 
You will get over this attack, I pledge my repu- 
tation. But i cannot say how soon. Avoid lying in 


104 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


bed. Be in the open air as much as you can, and 
above all avoid solitude. Talk to the very first 
comer, about any subject whatever, sooner than 
allow yourself to feed upon your own thoug-hts.’ 

Then I made my toilette, and by the time I had 
reached the coffee-room it was twelve o’clock. 
Waiting there for some reason or other was Captain 
Edwardes. 

We had now become such friends that there was 
no formality between us. He complimented me 
heartily and bluffly on my appearance, said he could 
see I had had a good night, for that there were not 
the usual rims of sleeplessness round my eyes which 
he had often noticed with distress, and then point- 
blank asked me what I was going to do for the day. 
I told him that I had no idea.' 

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I have a little yawl here — not 
much, but good enough. I may have friends coming 
out with me for a little knock about in the open, 
nothing more whatever. Will you join us? We 
shall be back before sunset.’ 

‘ With the very greatest pleasure.’ 


Jjucy Smithes Narrative, 


105 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The ‘ little yawl ’ turned out to be, as I now know, 
a vessel of about seventy-five tons, with a crew on 
her of from a dozen to fifteen hands as nearly as I 
could make out. 

We walked to the end of the pier, and then de- 
scended the steps to the lower stages. A four-oared 
cutter was waiting for us. Almost immediately we 
were alongside the yacht, from the gangway of 
which hung the daintiest of ladders, with a little rail 
of frosted iron. I was on deck in a moment. Then 
Captain Edwardes followed me and the rest of the 
boat’s crew except one, and — for this was my first 
experience in sea life, and was a treat to me — I saw 
the tackle slung down from the davits, and the boat 
hoisted up. Then up went the canvas, and the yacht 
slipped her moorings, and away we went. 

In the first few minutes I was too pleased and 
happy even to think. I simply allowed myself to be 
influenced by the glories of the situation — above us 
the magnificent blue sk^^, with just here and there a 
fleck of cloud ; all round us the sea, which people per- 
sist in calling blue, but which is in reality a light 
shade of black whipped here and there into white 
foam. Now and again we passed a great mass of 
floating seaweed; or some huge jelly-fish with a 


106 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

disc as large as that of a church clock, and its tenta- 
cles streaming out behind it. Then some sea-gulls 
would follow us, and the crew forward would throw 
them scraps of meat and biscuit, and keep them 
in our wake. It was like a pleasant dream. 

I was leaning over the bulwarks watching all this 
when I felt ^ hand laid lightly on my arm. 

‘ You are fond of the sea. Miss Smith. You have 
been playing it down on me. You must have been 
at sea before.’ 

^ I assure you, never.’ 

‘ Then you take to it marvellously, and without 
compliments, are a born sailor. But I will ask you 
a question ; how are we going now ? ’ 

‘ I don’t know what you mean. We are going 
away from shore.’ 

^ Are we running or beating ? ’ 

‘You are talking Greek to me.’ 

‘ Are we going with tlie wind or against the 
wind ? ’ 

I assumed a visage of profundity worthy of the 
two dear sisters combined. ‘ As we are sailing, I 
presume we are going with the wind.’ 

‘Worthy of Pinnock,’ he answered. ‘Dear me, 
dear me I all the happiness of life consists in learn- 
ing things. And you have a lot to learn yet. Don’t 
think me rude. I am only laughing, as if you had 
made a revoke at whist. We are sailing straight 
dead in the teeth of the wind. The wind is blowing 
dead against us, and we are going dead against it. 

Then he took me back by the helm and showed 
me how we were tacking, keeling well up into the 


iMcy Smith's Narrative 107 

wind’s eye until we had made a ‘ leg/ and then put- 
ting smartly about and still keeping up into the 
wind, and repeating the manoeuvre, so doing in zig- 
zag what it would be impossible to do in a straight 
line. 

This was my first lesson in seamanship, although 
I can now, I flatter myself, navigate by compass 
and chronometer. 

Out we went until the sun had a good deal more 
than passed the meridian. Then Captain Edwardes 
suddenly roared out, ‘ Lay to ! ’ Something was 
done to the sails, I could not tell what, and the 
yacht, which until then had been tearing her way 
through the water like a thing of life, stood motion- 
less, although with all her canvas set. 

‘ I think it’s time. Miss Smith,’ he said, for 
lunch.’ 

I acquiesced, and down we went into the saloon, 
where I found to my astonishment a stewardess, 
who showed me to a ladies’ cabin, and assisted me 
deftly in an impromptu toilette. Men talk about 
the boudoirs of women, but I never was in a bou- 
doir, taking the general rule, which cost, square 
foot for square foot, one-third the money of the sa- 
loon of a yacht. 

I need not give a description. The saloon was a 
little drawing-room, with its piano, bookshelves, 
vases of flowers, and even here and there such per- 
ishable articles as statuettes of Parian and plates of 
old blue china — clamped to the sides, I dare say, but 
not perceptibly so. 

The lunch was one of which I need only say that I 


108 


Adventures of iMcy Smith 


more than once wished that dear Mr. Bulbrooke were 
with us. There were strange potted meats, and dif- 
ferent kinds of wines in small flasks, and hothouse 
fruit ; and there were hot partridge and cold grouse, 
with peaches and apricots and grapes in great clus- 
ters. My reader must not put me down as a gour- 
mand. Pray let him understand once and for all that 
I regard a well-prepared meal as I do a w^ell-pre- 
pared party or any other well-prepared arrangement. 
It is a work of art. And people who devote them- 
selves to a work of art deserve credit for it. A 
cook who is master of his profession is in my mind a 
higher artist than the gentleman who paints the 
blue boar for the sign-board of the village inn. 

We lingered over lunch because an official dressed 
as the steward, and apparelled in a costume partly 
resembling that of an officer in the Queen’s navy and 
partly that of a head butler, appeared, and mixed 
and served out some champagne cup. Then went 
on deck. 

The land of course was out of sight. The sun was 
dipping. The night clouds had gathered. One or 
two of the larger stars were actually showing them- 
selves. 

' It will be late for getting back into Brighton, 
Captain Edwardes,’ I said. 

'Yes,’ he answered, 'very late. We couldn’t 
possibly get back there to-night. And if we came 
back in the morning, all the dear old ladies in the 
hotel would be talking. Our nose is turned for 
Dieppe.’ 

I was staggered, but only for a moment. You 


iMcy Smithes Narrative 


109 


must recollect what very strange and curious expe- 
riences I had had in my time. 

‘ And you are taking me to Dieppe without hav- 
ing asked my consent ? ’ 

‘ Don’t be angry, my dear Miss Smith. All is 
fair in love and war. I give you my sacred word of 
honour you are dealing with a gentleman, and I 
will satisfy you on that point in a very few minutes. 
Just come down below.’ 

I went down the companion into the saloon, and he 
followed me at a respectful distance. He took a seat 
directly opposite me. 

‘ Miss Smith,’ he said, ‘ I have meant you no mis- 
chief. I would not hurt a hair on your head, and if 
I heard any man speak evil of you I would shoot him 
as if he were a mad dog. I do not want to make 
myself ridiculous by going on my knees or throwing 
myself into any kind of male hysterics. I am a silent 
man with very few words about me, but all of them 
true. I think I have done wrong in making this 
cruise run into the night. It was recklessness. It 
was just the desire to have you with me anyhow. 
But I will put you ashore at any port you like, and 
nobody need know what has happened. Need I again i 
give you my word that you are safe with me ? ’ 

‘ No,’ I said, ‘ I think I am.’ 

‘Well, then,’ he replied, as if with a sense of 
relief, ‘let us go oh. We ought to he at Dieppe in 
about two hours. You shall stop at the hotel, and I 
will sleep on the yacht. In the morning we will go 
round to the Consulate and see about things. Are 
you frightened any longer ? ’ 


110 Adventures of Lucy Sniith 

‘ What has the Consulate to do with it ? ' 

‘ Why, it’s where foreigners have to go when they 
want to do anything, from setting up a lollypop stall 
at the corner of the street down to getting married 
or making their will. We can get married at the 
Consulate by an English clergyman as regularly" as 
we could at St. George’s, Hanover Square.’ 

1 looked down, and for three or four minutes I 
kept silence. 

‘You have not been quite fair to me. It is true 
that you pay me a high compliment by suggesting 
that I should be your wife, but it was hardly honour- 
able to put me in a position which, if I had refused 
you, would have compromised me hopelessly.’ 

‘ I can’t help it,’ he said. ‘ Please don’t argue. I 
love you ; that’s all I can say. 1 love you. And I 
mean what is straight and square. I dare say I 
have been foolish and romantic, or whatever else 
you like to call it, but that doesn’t prevent my loving 
you honestly and sincerely. Will you ijiarry me ? ’ 

‘You had better go on deck,’ I answered, ‘and 
come down again in an hour’s time.’ 

> I deliberated very carefully. I did not love the 
man, but I could see he loved me, and I was quite 
read}" and willing to make him a good wife. But 
behind me was my terrible secret. How could I 
marry him without telling it to him ? Then if I told 
him ? Upon one alternative he might think me mad. 
Upon the other he would certainly not wish to have 
me for his wife. 

Well the best way out of all difficulties is to tell 
the truth. And a number of motives weighed to- 


Lucy Smithes Narrative 


111 


g’ether on this occasion to make me do so. First of 
all, in spite of the trick he had played upon me, I 
really more than liked Captain Edwardes. Next, it 
would be a relief to tell my horrible tale to some one, 
and to g'et it off my mind. Then it would not matter 
to me after all, except so far as my own personal 
feelings towards him were concerned, how he might 
take my communication. An English officer is a 
gentleman, and will keep your secret far more 
scrupulously than your solicitor will. So in these 
calculations I made up my mind, and went straight 
up on deck without waiting for him to come down 
to me. 

He came towards me with both hands held out, 
but I made no response to the gesture. 

‘I have made up my mind,’ I said. ‘I will tell 
you to-morrow morning what I think. As soon as 
we reach Dieppe, please take me to an hotel, for I am 
very tired. Meantime I may tell you that I forgive 
you the trick you have played me, although I think 
it was unworthy of you.’ 

His whole face lit up. ‘ Will you shake hands on 
the bargain. Miss Smith ? ’ 

‘ Certainly,’ I replied, with a laugh, and held out 
my hand. 

He did not shake it, but took it tenderl^^ and kissed 
it, and then remarked that as far as he could make 
out by the pennon the wind had changed two points 
to the south. 

What curious creatures men are ! 


112 


Adventures of L/acy Smith 


CHAPTER XV. 

It was now fairly night, and the sky was alive with 
stars. My companion sent below for hot coffee, and 
asked my permission to smoke a cigar. Then we 
paced the deck together, and he pointed out to me 
several of the leading constellations. Then we went 
aft by the binnacle, and I had a short lesson in 
steering b}^ compass. 

‘ Here is the key of the saloon,’ he said, ‘ and here, 
is the key of the door into the steward ’s cabin. Or, 
if you prefer it, here is the key of the state cabin, 
which has a lovely swing cot in it. Will you go 
below or will you remain on deck ? Do whichever 
you like, my dear child.’ 

I was really intensely tired and cold. The night 
at sea is always very cold, and the day in summer 
always very hot. I took the ke^^ of the state cabin 
and thanked him. He came down with me and lit a 
swinging lamp, briefly said ‘Good-night,’ and left 
me. 

The cabin was panelled in white, picked out with 
delicate sea-green and gold. Here and there were 
fixed looking-glasses. There were two little round 
windows on each side tightly screwed up. There 
was a bed with fittings of chintz and muslin that 
would have satisfied the sisters. There was a little 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 113 

shelf or else a set of hooks everywhere, and the floor 
was thickly carpeted. 

I had just time to see all these thing's by the lig-ht 
of the lamp, and so to fall asleep, wondering* dream- 
ily whether I were ag*ain the victim of enchantment. 

I was roused in the morning by a mixed din and 
rattle of voices and cordage, and also, if I am 
frankly to tell the truth, by a most peculiar and 
unpleasant smell. 

I looked out, and could see we were in a harbor 
full of vessels of every kind, from tiny fishing boats 
up to great ocean-going three-masters ; and the pe- 
culiarly unpleasant smell evidently came from the 
harbor mud. There was a clock in the cabin which 
told me the time was nine. At the marble basin 
both hot and col'd water w’ere laid on. I could not 
help seeing I had been expected, or rather provided 
for, for the combs and brushes and sponges were all 
entirely new; and this could hardly have been an 
accident. 

When I had finished my toilette and made my way 
on deck, I found Captain Edwardes walking up and 
down. We shook hands, and he then suggested we 
should go ashore. 

We began to make our way up the town. First 
he took me to a really good milliner’s in what I sup- 
posed was the principal street. ‘ You will want to 
get some gloves and things,’ he said ; ‘ here’s your 
purse. And get some pocket handkerchiefs. They’re 
pretty in France.’ 

As he put the purse into my hand a curious shud- 
der came over me, and I nearly fell. The whole of 


114 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

the Tottenham Court Road business came rushing 
Dack into my mind, 

^ What’s the matter ? ’ he said. Are you faint ? ’ 

^ Ko, thanks. I am all right.’ 

^ You look strangely pale. Will you come to the 
nearest hotel ? ’ 

‘No,’ I answered, ‘I am perfectly well, and I 
won’t be long.’ 

I went in and made my purchases. Dieppe, of 
coui-se, is but a poor town, but to me it was new and 
wonderful, and the French millinery interested me 
almost as much as it would have done the two dear 
sisters. 

Then we turned through the market, and he 
bought some flowers. A hideous old Normandy 
woman was plucking a fowl alive, deliberately" 
pulling out its feathers one by one. I started 
with something like a shriek, 

‘ It’s very brutal, is it not ? ’ he said. ‘ But they 
say it makes the flesh white. The French have no 
idea of humanity to animals, and the Italians are 
still more cruel. That old woman will pluck her 
dozen of fowls to-day, or two dozen if they ai^ 
wanted, and will most devoutly go to Mass next 
morning.’ 

I shuddered again, for I thought of the old woman 
of my own story. I had cast at the hag who was 
torturing the wretched bird a look of angry disgust, 
and she had replied with a jettatura from under her 
shaggy eyebrows that reminded me forcibly of the 
old hag of Tottenham Court Road, and seemed to 
chill my blood. 


iMcy SmiWs Narrative 


115 


Then we turned down to the shore, where there 
was a sort of place something* like a pier and some- 
thing like subscription rooms, built upon piles, jf I 
remember rightly, ahd close to the sea, which in 
winter-time must beat against it. 

We went in and passed through a room where peo- 
ple were reading newspapers and novels, and another 
where they seemed to be doing nothing in particular 
except gossiping, and then I found myself in a P. 
and O. chair on a veranda overlooking the sea. 

Captain Edwardes pulled a seat for himself close 
to me, took possession of it, and began at once. 

‘ Miss Smith,’ he said, ‘ 1 think we both under- 
stand each other. I am afraid I have done very 
wrong in kidnapping you, but upon my word I could 
hardly help it, and I only know that upon the same 
provocation I should do it again. Well, now, I am 
going to put a question to you straight and fair. 
When the yacht slipped anchor at Brighton I had a 
marriage licence in our names in a little morocco 
case in ray pocket, upon which any English clergy- 
man anywhere on the Continent is bound to act. 
Now,’ said he, ‘we must go before the consul with 
the skipper and mate of the yacht. The consul will 
soon be satisfied as to who we are, and then first 
thing to-morrow morning we’ll be married at the 
Protestant^hurch. It’s as good a marriage as any 
in England, and, in fact, if anything, better ; for here 
they identify you and counter-identify you, and go 
through all kinds of formalities. It’s no Gretna 
Green business, I can assure you.’ 

‘ I’ll talk to you about it this afternoon if I am 


116 Adventures of Jjiicy Bmith 

well enoug-h/ I said, ‘or at any rate to-morrow. I 
am afraid I cannot marry you at all.’ And I felt 
m^^self turning deadly pale. 

‘ Are you married already ? ’ he asked, with some- 
thing like a choking in his mouth. 

‘No! no! no!’ I cried. ‘I am not married.’ 
And here I burst out sobbing like a great girl. 
‘I never loved any man or cared for any man. 
And I like you very much. But I can’t marry 
you.’ And then I went off into a fit of hysterics, 
foi I felt the lump rising in my throat, and knew 
that I was laughing and crying at 


L/ucy Smith’s Narrative 


117 


CHAPTER XVI. f 

i 

When I came to myself I found I was in bed in a 
large room looking out on to the sea. I was, in fact, 
at the LL6tel Roy ale. It was six o’clock in the even- 
ing, and a silent, motionless French chambermaid, 
but with a pleasant face, ruddy and English, as are 
those of the Normandy girls, was seated knitting in 
the corner of the room. 

‘ Madame has fainted. The sun has been too hot 
for madame. But inadame is better now. The doc- 
tor has been to see madame, and has bled her just 
the least little. The doctor says there is nothing to 
fear. He will return immediately.’ 

Was it strange, after all my many experiences, 
that I should turn round with happiness to find my- 
self in safety, and go to sleep again ? 

Presently the doctor came. He was an Eng- 
lishman, a ruddy, stout man about fifty, of the 
family doctor type, who had evidently noted down my 
case in his mind as summer cholera, or slight sun- 
stroke, or something of the sort. He felt my pulse 
and shook his head very solemnly. Then he had a 
good look at my tongue. Then he said, dear old 
gentleman, that I was below par, and that what I 
wanted was a large wine-glass full of beef tea with 
a small wine-glass full of port every three hours. 


118 


Adventures of I/iicy Smith 


with some fruit, and some nice, nourishing*, easily 
digestible brown bread biscuits. An egg in the 
morning with a little dry toast and some water- 
cresses would be advisable. I must not take coffee, 
and the tea must be very weak, and on no account 
have any green in it. 

I could not help laughing when he left. He had 
done his very best to fathom my case, and he had 
dealt with the symptoms with a prudence and gravity 
worthy of any Gammer Gurton. And yet he had 
no more notion what it was from which I was reall3^ 
suffering than had the swallows which were darting 
past my window. 

Soon after he had left Captain Edwardes came in. 
‘ How are you, Lucy ? ’ he asked. ‘ I shall call you 
Lucy now, and you must call me Arthur. I know 
what the doctor says, but how do you feel yourself? ’ 

‘ The doctor has told me nothing that I did not 
know already. He has only said that I am weak 
and ill. Has he told ^mu anything? ’ 

‘ No. He could tell me nothing more, except that 
you were to have eggs, and beef tea, and port wine 
and cream, and quinine and iron, and carriage exer- 
cise. He said it was a general weakness of the ner- 
vous system.’ 

‘ He knows nothing about it,’ I cried, starting up 
in bed. ‘ And yet why should I blame him ? How 
could he possibl^^ know ? ’ 

And I had another hysterical fit. 

When I came to myself Captain Edwardes was 
seated by my side, and the femme de chamhre at 
the foot of the bed. She looked at him for a mo- 


Lucy Smithes Narrative 119 

ment, and then quietly left the room. He stooped 
over me, kissed me very gently on the forehead, and 
said, ‘ It is your mind is uneasy, dearest. Tell me 
all about it. If there is anything against you in 
England, I do not care to know what it is. I am 
sure there is no harm in it. We will go and live 
wherever you like, or if you prefer it, we will live 
nowhere, and roam from place to place.’ 

I looked at the clock. It was exactly eight. ‘ I 
will tell you everything,’ I said, ^and it will not take 
ver^^ long. But please do not look at me while I am 
telling you. Look at the floor. Do not lift your 
eyes to me once, and do not say a single word, or 
else I shall break down hopelessly.’ 

‘ Exactly as you-wish,’ he said, and sat in silence 
to listen. 

It was difficult to tell him ; it was terrible. But 
I had made up my mind to do it, and I did so. As 
I began to tell the story the hateful details of it all 
came back to me in their foul minuteness. I left 
hardly anything out. I went steadily and firmly 
on as if I were repeating a lesson, and when I had 
finished I said, ‘ That is all.” 

The next moment I found my head on his shoul- 
der and his arms round me, while he was raining 
kisses on my forehead. Then he gently placed me 
again among the pillows and sat down on the bed 
by my side, with my right hand in both of his. But 
there was a troubled, savage expression on his face. 

^ This is too strange, too strange all of it, not to 
be true ; even if it were not you, my own, who were 
telling me. There is some horrible devilry in this. 


120 Adventures of Lmcy Smith 

We are not fighting man ; we are fighting the 
powers of darkness. But we will fight them, and 
get the best of them. And I will wring this old 
scoundrel’s neck from his shoulders with 103^ own 
hands. I shall never be allowed to swing for it. 
And now you have told me ever^^thing I will leave 
.you for the night ; and to-morrow, when I have 
thought things over, we will see what course to 
shape. I will send the maid back to sit up with 
3’ou.’ Then he again kissed me tenderl^^ and left. 

There Avere no dreams that night. 

Next day he sat in my room for some time. 

‘ I have telegraphed,’ he said, ‘to Strasburg for 
a curious old man, a ver^^ intimate friend of my 
father’s, and a brother student with him at Le^^den 
and Paris. He can tell us about this business if 
an.ybody can. Meantime, my darling, be happ}".’ 
Then he kissed me and left me, and again I had a 
happA^ dreamless night, and the next night Avas like 
it. M.y persecutors must surely haA’e been aAA^are 
that there Avas mischief breAving for them. 

I could only wonder hoAV it would all end, and 
vaguely hope for the best. 


Captain Edwardcs^ Narrative 


121 


CAPTAIN EDWARD ES^ NARRATIVE, 

CHAPTER XVII. 

My name is Arthur Edwardes. I was the second 
son in a Welsh family. Our estates were near Car- 
diff, and my father owned slate quarries, and was 
one of the members for the county. 

My destination was settled early in life. My eldest 
brother was to succeed my father in the slate quar- 
ries and the county membership. I was put into the 
Rifle Brig’ade with the distinct promise that I should 
always have a handsome allowance, but that if I 
wanted to many I must look out for myself. 

I liked my regiment and I liked my brother offi- 
cers, and I never knew what it was to want fifty 
pounds. When a man in the line can say that he 
says a very great deal. 

I was out in India when I received the news that 
my eldest brother had died. My father, one of the 
most sensible men in the world, wrote out to tell me 
of the fact, and, of course, to remind me of the dif- 
ference it made in my position. But at the same 
time he urged me to remain with my regiment. It 
would be a good school for me, and he should like to 
see me retire with a high rank, or to feel certain that 
I should do so. He was a very singular man, in 


122 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

whom strong* affection was blended with an equal 
amount of common sense as impenetrable as hard- 
ened steel. 

‘ I am only a dealer in slates for house-tops, my 
dear boy/ he said, ‘ but I am a rich man — richer than 
you might believe. If your brotlier had lived you 
would have found, when I died and you retired, that 
you were quite able to hold your own in the county, 
and even, if you chose, to hunt the hounds at your 
own risk. 

‘ I am only thinking of what is best for you. Stop 
on till you can retire with general’s rank. Marry. 
I am sure you will make a good choice, and that you 
will look after the estates when I am gone. I am, as 
you know, now sixty, but I either shoot or hunt six 
days every week. My yacht is always in commission 
in the summer, and you will be glad to know that I 
can eat a beefsteak and onions for my breakfast, and 
take a pint of beer with it. You have never written 
to me for money, and, to tell you the truth, I am 
glad you have not done so. It has made my mind 
easier about you, and has satisfied me that you 
know what is due to the family, as I was always 
certain you did. It is the first duty of a gentleman 
to tell the truth, the second to resent an insult, the 
third to keep out of debt. In these matters I am 
proud of you, as your mother would have been were 
she left. 

^ I am told in India that you shoot snipe, and that 
you can get from fifty to a hundred head in a morn- 
ing. I envy you the sport. I am still strong enough 
to go about after the grouse, and the day before yes- 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 123 

terday, unless Evan Evans be a bigger liar than 
usual, I tramped twenty-five miles, which is not bad 
for a man of my age, and three times I killed right 
and left. I take a glass of claret at lunch, three at 
dinner, and my usual whisky and water before I go 
to bed. The gout, which killed your poor grand- 
father, has not worried me as yet, even in my little 
toe-nail. 

‘ I go to quarter sessions, and I turn up every Sun- 
day morning at church. Old Jenkins preaches a 
capital sermon, and I like to listen to him. I wish I 
could see you and shake hands with you, but things 
are best as they are. I fancy I have been writing a 
random kind of letter, and that my ideas, like the 
birds towards the end of th'e season, are a little wild 
and apt to scatter. But you’re a good shot, or used 
to be, and you must bring them down one by one, 
right and left. I have nothing to add except, as I 
think I have said before, that I was never in better 
health, and of course, my dear son, that you may 
draw at reason as you please. 

‘ Your affectionate Father, 

‘ Hugh Edwardes.’ 

This was the last letter I had from my father. 
About three weeks afterwards I received a telegram 
from the family lawyer to say that he had been 
practising a new hunter for the next season, but the 
horse had thrown him and fallen upon him, and that 
he had been picked up dead. 

And here I must add the fuller particulars as I 
afterwards learnt them when I returned. My father 


124 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


was a man whose courage and determination rose 
higher in proportion to the difficulties they had to 
meet. He was a typical Welshman, not brave only, 
but obstinate in proportion to his braveiy. The 
horse was a four-year-old iron-grey, w^onderfully 
strong and sound, but considered vicious. My father 
had resolved to purchase him for the next hunting 
season, and was trying him over some stone walls. 
The brute when put to the jump reared. Several 
times my father brought him to his feet again by 
striking him between the ears with his crop ; but at 
last the struggle between man and beast became one 
of life and death. The horse.reared again, staggered, 
and fell over backwards. My father was picked up 
a crushed mass. The horse lay helpless with his 
back broken, and had to be slaughtered on the 
spot. 

Of course I went at once to my colonel. He ex- 
pressed all due sorrow, and added his hope, for him- 
self and the rest of the officers, that I should not 
leave the regiment. He was a blunt man. 

‘My dear Edwardes,’ he said, ‘we don’t want to 
lose you. You are a smart officer, and for the 
Queen’s sake I should like to see you stop in the 
regiment. I’m an older man than you are, and I 
have seen more of death and trouble than you. 
Your trouble is a very great one, and I am sorry 
for it, and here’s my hand on it. But 1 wish you 
could stop in the regiment. You are high up now, 
and you’re a great help to me, and you keep the 
younger fellows in order. 1 can give myself leave 
in safety if I know you are in quarters. I know all 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 125 

will go right. I am a poor man, with nothing but 
my half-pay to look forward to, and you are now a 
very rich man indeed. Of course a marching regi- 
ment is a humdrum life, and perhaps it is wrong of 
me to try and persuade you to devote your days to 
it. But if you can see your way to stop with us, I 
.hope to Heaven you’ll do so.’ 

I took six months’ leave of absence, and came back 
to England. And here let me say my last words 
about my father. He and I had always loved each 
other dearly. We thoroughly understood each 
other. There had never been an angry interview 
or even a difference of opinion between us. I had 
been prudent, and had never had occasion to write to 
him for money, but he had been always placing, 
money to my account beyond the stipulated allow- 
ance. I think if ever a father and a son loved one 
another, it was m^^ father and myself. 

I considered matters for a few weeks and made up 
my mind ho^v to act. My regimental life had un- 
fitted me for the position and duties of a wealthy 
squire with an important estate in the county. I 
had no desire to be a Deputy Lieutenant, or High 
Sheriff, or a Colonel of Yeomanry; and to sit on the 
Bench at quarter sessions and try poachers, or even 
to be a member of Parliament — the very idea of any 
of these things wearied me. 

Of course the first person I saw was my ^munger 
brother, Hugh, who had left Trinity Hall and been 
called to the Bar, and was sedulously attending 
quarter sessions and going circuit. I do not wish to 
be unkind, and I may say in excuse that Anglo- 


126 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


Indians often come back with their hearts warmer 
than the hearts they find at home. 

I found my brother colourless — that is the only 
word by which I can describe him. He had neither 
faults nor virtues. He was a prim 3"oun^ man of 
five-and-twenty, who seemed to go through his daily 
life as if he were a clock wound up for the purpose. 
He was decorous, guarded, and utterly unsympa- 
thetic. 

We had a long interview at his chambers in the 
Temple. He began, correctly enough from his own 
point of view, by assuming that I should settle down 
on the estate, and that he would have the income — ■ 
a very liberal one — allowed him under my father’s 
will. 

I told him that to settle down on the estates after 
our father’s death would be hateful to me. The 
estates were mine, I reminded him, subject to a 
large settlement on himself. Would he like to take 
them subject to a rent-charge to myself, which of 
course could be arranged if times were bad ? 

I wonder why brothers so often hate one another ? 
There was something about this brother of mine 
that made me instinctively hate him, although I 
knew and felt it was wrong to do so. He replied 
bloodlessly that he liked the law and was getting on 
at it; that he had been definitely promised silk if he 
stuck to his profession as soon as he. was thirty-five, 
and that he meant to follow his profession. 

‘ I shall probably stand for Parliament,’ he said, 
‘ at the next general election, and I may assure you 
that if I stand I shall get in. Besides, I dislike a 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 127 

country life altogether. I hate it. Why cannot 
you go down and take my father’s place ? I would 
not be a country squire for the world. I would 
as soon live among jockeys in a racing stable, or 
troopers in a cavalry barrack.’ 

This was intended to be insolent, and I knew as 
much, so the interview terminated for the time, and 
we arranged to meet again in about a month. 

I spent this month more or less idly, but as be- 
fitted respect for my father’s memory. First I 
arranged all matters at the Horse Guards. I saw 
there was no alternative but to send in my papers. 
Then I obtained an introduction to a very eminent 
and shrewd firm of solicitors in Lincoln’s Inn Fields 
— Messrs. White, Jackson, Jackson, and Grey — and 
put myself unreservedly in their hands. I ascer- 
tained what I had not known until now, that either 
through negligence or intentionally the entail had 
lapsed, so that my brother and myself were co-heirs. 
My ignorance in all these matters may seem strange, 
but any man of the world can tell you that army 
men know nothing of law, and that, if they think 
they know anything about it, they are sure to be 
wrong. 

Thus, then, my position was perfectly simple. I 
was entitled to half my father’s lands in their value, 
and half of all his personal property— stocks, shares, 
plate, pictures, and so on. My thankless young 
brother had the other half. 

Having armed m^^self with this information, I 
went down to Brighton and waited till I had heard 
from him. 


138 Adventures of Inicy Smith 

He played the waiting- g-ame himself. He kept 
writing’ to ask me to come and see him. Then he 
wrote to say that probate duty must be paid, and 
that if I did not attend to matters he must take 
them into his own hands. So up to towm I came. 

When I had once ag-ain g-ot face to face with him 
it did not take long- to settle matters. I think the 
whole thing occupied four months, which, after all, 
is not long for an estate which I may sa^^ without 
presumption, would have amply supported a peerage. 
My poor father had, indeed, refused a peerage twice. 
There were slate quarries and coal mines, and a large 
amount of house property in Cardiff, and land in its 
outskirts growing every day more valuable for 
building purposes. There were a good many acres 
of moor worth only a fancy price for grouse shooting-, 
and so uncertain in value. But there was also a 
large sum of money invested in railway debentures 
and in guaranteed loans. When the reckoning had 
been taken, and the whole estate realised, I found 
myself a richer man than I had ever imagined I 
should be even if I had been sole heir. 

I distinctl^^ remember the final meeting with my 
brother in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. His lawj^ers were 
present, and so were mine — for we had each employed 
independent advice ; and so of course were the solici- 
tors of my poor father, at whose offices the interview 
took place. 

Every kind of necessary document was signed, and 
when the proceedings were over my brother and I 
formally shook hands. He remained, I presume to 
discuss matters of detail with the lawyers affecting 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 129 

his interest, and in no way my own. I turned down 
from Lincoln’s Inn Fields into Fleet Street, and 
drove to the ‘ Rag*.’ 

For the next fortnight or so I did nothing. It was 
about the beginning of May. I ran down to Folke- 
stone, where I knew I should find a number of friends. 
I was now a rich man, who could sign a cheque 
without much troubling myself, so I took quarters 
at the Pavilion, went over to Cowes, and bought a 
roomy sea-going yacht of between eighty and ninety 
tons, engaged a crew, and set myself to w’ork to 
master the difficulties of navigation, which were as 
novel to me as^those of brigade exercises must be to 
a yachtsman, although, if Lamont of Knockdow is 
to be believed, walrus-hunting and pig-sticking are 
sports that vary very little in detail. 


Advenht7'es of Jjiicy Smith 


1?.0 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Navigation, of course, can no more be learnt in a 
month than can fencing-, or billiards, or chess ; but, if 
you give your mind to it, you can pick up a great 
deal in three or four weeks — quite enough to enable 
you to take your vessel to any place on the French 
coast, although not to attempt the Mediterranean 
or the coast of Norway. 

I took to yachting wonderfully. First, of course, 
there was the novelty of it. Then the precise disci- 
pline of the thing, its place for every rope, its regular 
hours, and its other minutise were all akin to my 
previous habits. More particularly^ I may mention 
the strict attention to cleanliness and tidiness. A 
good regiment on parade is, of course, perfect and 
faultless down to every boot, button, glove, and 
belt. 

But the exquisite tidiness of a yacht is far superior 
to that of a regiment. The head housemaid with 
her staff may have left the suite of drawing-rooms 
in perfect condition, the groom of the chambers may 
have come in, thrown around his lordly and accurate 
eye, and rearranged the exact angle of a sofa, or 
exchanged the position of a couple of vases, and yet 
the immense chambers have not about them the 
beauty and peculiar charm of a single piece of Dresv 


Captain Edivardes^ Narrative 131 

den china without a chip oi' flaw in it. And so a 
yacht well kept is the perfection of simple neatness. 

This is one of the things t^at gives yachting its 
charm ; and it also reminds us, as some old Greek 
philosopher said, that when men have to exercise 
what are commonly considered the functions of 
women, they beat women wholly out of the field, 
making even better cooks and better dressmakers. 
It is merely because they are less lazy than women, 
take more pride in their work, do it more conscien- 
tiously, and do not cackle about it when it is done, 
like an old hen over a windy egg. 

My first summer I ran up the coast of Norway 
and paid a fl^dng visit to the Faroes and Iceland. 
We reached Hamm erf est, had a good time of it, and 
came bowling back with an almost due south wind. 
Then I laid the vessel up for the winter at Wiven- 
hoe, and first thing the next spring, before the 
regular summer scorch had even threatened, ran 
through the Straits and up the Levant to the Dar- 
danelles. When I threw anchor again in South- 
ampton Water I had really done everything that it 
is worth the while of a European yachtsman to do. 
There remained more ambitious voyages only — to 
run across the Herring Pond, the South Sea Archi- 
pelago, Rio, and San Francisco. But I had had 
enough of the sea for a bit, and I came up to London, 
took rooms at Fenton’s and lived for some weeks on 
the joint and a pint of claret at the Rag.’ 

Early in the spring the ^ Carlotta ’ was thorough- 
ly overhauled and put into commission. I had be- 
1 gun to know something of yacht hands. Your 


13? Adventures of Lucy Smith 

Solent men are good for racing, but they dislilve 
long voyages and hard work, and a Solent man 
gives himself as many airs as a fashionable jocke^^ 
—which in effect is w^hat he is. 

Your Essex men, of whom Lord Brassey thinks 
so highly, are honest, patient, and clever sailors, 
but they have a soft streak in them, and the mo- 
ment it blows begin to wish themselves at home, 
sitting over the fire, with a round or so of dripping 
toast and a great basin of tea. 

So, having first secured a competent skipper and 
first mate in the Port of London, which I managed 
to do after some trouble, I went with them up to 
Leith and Dundee, and we got together as good a 
crew as could be wished, all old hands out of the 
mercantile marine, delighted at the idea of no cargo 
work, good rations, good wages, and a smart, handy 
vessel to be considerably overmanned. 

And thus it had come about that I had found my- 
self at Brighton, although what precise whim took 
me to that great restaurant of watering-places I 
cannot undertake to say. Brighton is not the place 
a 3 ^achtsman would choose. To take a mere matter 
of prudence into account, it is a very dangerous 
shore ; and if a nasty wind sets dead inland and you 
are not in good holding, of which there is very little 
at Brighton, the only thing to do is to up canvas and 
beat out. 

However, whims are unaccountable. To Brighton 
I went, spent some days ashore for change, and so, 
as things happened, came to meet Miss Lucy Smith 
at the Grand Hotel. On the day 1 took her out for 


Captain Edivardes' Nai^rative 133 

wnat it was understood was to be a short sail, but 
wh^ch, throug-h some complications of events, turned 
out to be a long run, I was in a frame of mind which 
I can only describe as impish.' I had devoted the 
day before to a lesson in tandem, in which I am even 
now anything but a proficient : my blunders of the 
reins and the double thong had made me dissatisfied 
with myself, and generally disposed to take revenge 
upon society ; and I was also in that reckless kind 
of mood which sometimes comes upon a man, and 
makes him ride for a fall or swim out until he is 
tired, trusting to chance and his natural strength 
for getting to shore again. 

So much for what happened up to the time the 
‘ Carlotta ’ found herself at Dieppe, and my com- 
panion gave me the story of her life, which suffi- 
ciently explained, even to a barrack-banged, sea- 
tossed man like myself, her intense state of nervous- 
ness, and her evident weak health. 

When I had heard the tale, I said to myself, this 
matter must be taken in hand at once. There is 
nothing on earth like good resolutions. But the 
more I considered the affair the more I saw m^^ ut- 
ter inability to take it in hand myself. You might 
as well have asked me to sit down in the organ-loft 
at Haarlem and play a voluntary, or to take to 
pieces a chronometer that had stc^pped and say what 
was wrong in it. And so I took the common-sense 
course of telegraphing at once to Strasburg for old 
Althaus, of whom I had heard my father speak 
many times. 

My father in his nineteens and twenties had spent 


134 


Adventures of L/ucy Smith 


several months at Paris, Lej^den, Munich, and other 
foreig-n towns, resolutely wasting his time, but 
otherwise doing himself no manner of harm ; for he 
did not drink, he had a positive dislike for gambling, 
and whatever company he might be in he never for- 
got his self-respect. 

While at Leipzig he had somehow broken the 
small bone of his arm, and one of the students there 
had neglected his own work to keep him company, 
and, so to say, wait upon him during the period of 
mishap and recovery, which lasted about three 
weeks. 

In this period the two men became close friends. 
They smoked together and drank lager together — 
my father being a healthy subject, and in no danger 
of inflammation or fever — and they played chess ; 
and occasionally, as my father had often told me with 
a twinkle in his eye, they had talked mysticism, and 
even metaphysics. 

The friendship became closer than ever — perhaps 
because there was nothing in common between the 
two men. The very difference of their physical con- 
stitution, habits, and studies — if my father could be 
said to study — made them take to each other the 
more. When my father left Leipzig the two corre- 
sponded. Althaus had an income of his own — about 
sixty pounds a year in English money — wliich he 
more than doubled by writing for German scientific 
journals, although they pay miserably. 

His mode of life was simple. He used to rise in 
the morning and work in his laboratory, a little gar- 
ret on the sixth floor, which my father described to 


Captain Edivardes^ Nari'ative 135 

me as reminding him of an alchemist’s workshop. 
He would work on with a cup of coffee, heated over 
a spirit lamp, and a biscuit, and perhaps a repeti- 
tion of the frugal meal after midday, until his clock 
struck six. Then, unless some very important pro- 
cess was going on in any of his retorts or other appa- 
ratus, he would sally out to a Gasthaus and dine off 
bacon and sauer-kraut, or sausage and fried cab- 
bage, with a great bock of lager, and perhaps one 
or two more. 

Then — for, according to his own very limited ideas, 
he enjoyed the good things of this life, believing, 
unhappily, that there is no other in store for us — he 
would drink one, or perhaps tAvo glasses of schnapps, 
smoke tobacco of the strength and texture of dry 
hay out of a polished china bowl, and perhaps play a 
game or two of chess. Then he would return to his 
garret and go to bed. 

My father could never tempt this strange being to 
London, although he had been so far successful as 
to get him to Paris when he wanted to visit the 
Museum of the Jardin des Plantes and the medical 
schools, and more particularly the Y eterinary Col- 
lege at Alfort. This of course was decades before 
the days of Pasteur. 

Then, according to my father’s account, he had 
pressed money on Althaus, begging him to come 
and live in England comfortably, and to have a 
laboratory properly furnished and equipped, with 
an assistant devil to scrape the crucibles, and 
rake out the furnace, and wash the retorts and 
alembics, and keep the stores in order, and blow 


136 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

the bellows ; but young Althaus had onl 3 ^ shaken 
his head. 

^ If,’ said he, ‘ the man is not equal to his work he 
will be in my way. If he is equal to it he may steal 
my discoveries, however carefull}- I try to hide them. 
And I mean to discover great things.’ 

father shook his head in return, and admitted 
that there was a good deal of common sense in this. 
So he came back to England alone, while Althaus, 
as he used to put it in telling the stor^^ I’emained in 
his laboratoiy, always making spells, and occasion- 
ally explosions. 

However, the two corresponded until rn^^ father’s 
death, for there were letters from him down to the 
latest among inv father’s papers, and it was by the 
aid of these that I was now, happil^^ for me, able to 
trace him. 

I knew that he was almost pol^^glot, so I sent a 
long letter in English— long, urgent, and beseeching 
— of which, however, the substance can be very 
briefly stated indeed. 

I told him Miss Smith’s story, of course in unscien- 
tific language. I gave him my word of honor as an 
English officer that I had good reason to believe it ab- 
solutely true. I begged him to come over, not only 
for the sake of science, but in the sacred interests of 
humanity, adding emphatically but truthfully that 
I believed the bulk of English doctors to be hope- 
lessly^ ignorant, while those who knew better than 
their fellows were afraid of incurring the dreadful 
charge of scientific heterodoxy^ by even listening to 
a recital of facts which did not exactly fit in with 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 137 

their recog-nized text-books. And I am afraid I 
referred to Jenner and vaccination. 

I got a letter back by return of post. Althaus 
was deeply interested, and would set out at once. 
He was engaged in some researches on platinum, 
and the other metals of the same group, such as 
iridium. Platinum was the most marvellous metal 
in the world ; and iridium, which he believed to be 
identical with it, the most curious and puzzling. 

But metals were not human beings. They had not 
lives or nerves, and he would leave his metals to 
themselves, and come at once. I might expect him 
almost upon receipt of his letter. The communication 
was, of course, that of a mail of science, but it might 
have been written by a financier or a general equal 
to his work, it was so simple, precise, and brief. 


138 


Adventures of Imcij Smith 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The day after the letter Althaus arrived himself 
with a small valise and a courier’s hag, the latter 
containing in one compartment pipes and tobacco, 
and in another some books and a few scientific in- 
struments, apparently carefully protected in leather 
cases. He spoke English slowly and with a strong 
German accent, but with perfect accuracy. I com- 
plimented -him, and he answered simply that he had 
learned the language by reading English books 
which had been necessary to him, and had not been 
translated. 

I asked him if he knew Russian in the same man- 
ner, and he said yes, it was necessary. Russia at 
Moscow and St. Petersburg endowed science most 
liberally, and when a man who had in any way made 
his mark wanted to publish a book the Government 
would help him. More than that, he said, the Rus- 
sian Government spent large sums of money in pro- 
moting scientific research, and would always pay 
imperially for good work. I asked him about Eng- 
land, and he shook hisk head. 

^ You have had a very few scientific men,’ he said, 
‘ worthy of the name since the da^^s of Henry Cav- 
endish, who timed himself to death with his own 
repeater; and John Hunter, who boiled down the 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrathw 139 

Irish giant. Your scientific men, if thej^ practise 
medicine or surg'ery, think onl^^ of making guineas. 
Or if they devote themselves to chemistry or physi- 
ology, or any branch of study other than medicine 
or surger^^, they like to read papers to ladies and 
guardsmen at champagne picnics, which they actu- 
all}^ call scientific meetings, and to write trashy 
papers in the magazines in which the novels of your 
ephemeral novelists are spun out, or to get some 
job under Government with a pension attached to 
it, or an inferior order of knighthood. 

‘It is the daily work of your scientific man in 
England not to toil in his laboratory as a man ought, 
and to keep his results to himself until he has 
verified them and is certain of them and of their 
value. No. He makes it his metier to chatter like 
the idiots in the “ Precieuses Ridicules ’’ of Moliere, 
until he has chattered himself into your salons. 
Bah ! ’ And he took an enormous pinch of snulf . 

He might have been any age, for he had that clear 
complexion, unwrinkled skin, and perfect teeth and 
hair which tell of a life of the very strictest temper- 
ance. His features were clearly cut, and his fore- 
head with the whole upper part of his head of 
abnormal size. Beyond this nothing struck me 
about him except the keenness of his eye, the 
vivacity of his voice, the animation of his manner, 
and his simplicity and absence of self-consciousness. 

‘ Have you ever slept on a vessel ? ’ I asked him. 

He broke into excitable German. ‘ Ach ! mein 
lieber Gott im Himmel ! Nein, nein ! I will see it 
to-morrow after we have seen our patient. ’ 


140 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


It was now’ nine in the evening, and I talked with 
the pi'ofessor till ten, at which hour he told ine l)e 
invariably retired. Before he went he said a w’ord 
of warning. 

‘Do not let your medical men know that I am 
here. I shall not alter their treatment or in any 
way have anything to do wdth it unless I am con- 
vinced it is absolutely wrong. Then of course I 
should take the responsibility on myself. Meantime 
I am only a lay friend of yours who knew your 
father before you were born, and am nearly" old 
enough to be your grandfather. I have entered 
myself in the hotel books as Herr Althaus simply, 
and none of these Frenchmen have ever heard of me, 
so w’’e w’ill keep our little secret.’ /» 

I nodded assent, and it being settled that no mor« 
business w^as to be talked that night, we had up a 
little fat, pot-bellied bottle of the rarest Steinberg, 
over wdiich the professor many times sedately shook 
his head, with pious remaibs and ejaculations some- 
what inconsistent with his beliefs as otherwise 
genially expressed. And then we parted for the 
night with a grip of the hand . He was a w’onderf ul 
old man. The strength of the muscles of his fingers 
fairly astonished me, and made me wdnce like a 
schoolboy. 

Next morning, after the ordinary attendants had 
come and gone, I took Professor Althaus upstairs to 
Lucy’s room, and he sat dowm, and we all three had 
a very long talk. She had expected his arrival and 
knew its object, so she spoke unresert'edly, although 
w’ithout unnecessary detail. He kept putting a 


Captain Edioardes^ Narrative 141 

nmubfir of curious little questions, which of course 
must-have had a very definite object, althoug'h no 
layman or possibly very few medical men indeed 
could have understood their drift. Then he re- 
marked profoundly that he would go out, take me 
with him, and see about some simple things — old 
women’s medicaments, he added, with a dry small 
chuckle — herbs and other such simples which could 
do no harm, as the}’' would be put into a bottle and 
need only be smelt. ‘ The wise men,’ he concluded, 
^cannot possibly object to that.’ 

The professor and I walked out together, and we 
went to a chemist’s and had a mixture prepared and 
put into a stoppered bottle, of which I can only say 
that it smelt to me suspiciously like a compound of 
eau de Cologne and sweet-briar. It was at once 
sent back to the hotel, and Althaus and I pursued 
our walk. 

He took the nearest turning to the beach ; looked 
out for a boat upside down ; spread his handkerchief 
out on it for protection against the tar, and solemnly 
seated himself. I laid myself down on the shingle 
at his feet and waited. He was silent for several 
minutes. Then he whistled, terribly out of tune, an 
air from ‘ Der Freischutz.’ Then he was silent again 
for about an equal time. Then he began. 

‘ My dear young Edwardes, this is a very strange 
rase.’ 

‘ I know it, professor.’ 

‘ Call me Herr Althaus, if you are to call me any- 
thing but my simple name — the English fashion, and 
the best.’ 


142 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

* Certainly, Herr Althaus. But what about Ahe 
case ? I have told 3 ^ou all I know about it, ahd you 
know all that Lucy can tell you. Is there any hope 
of relief ?’ 

A painful silence, which seemed to me intermi- 
nable. 

^ Such cases are very rare. You cannot read of 
them in books or scientific journals. But I have 
heard of them, and have talked them over with men 
far more experienced than myself ; and I have seen 
one, that of a boy whom they used in his dreams for 
clairvoyance. But there they meant the boy no 
harm. They wanted him to discover a rich lode of 
tung'sten, and actually enough the boy did so. Things 
are not necessarily untrue because a few pedants 
laugh at them.’ 

^ And how soon can we commence any active 
steps ? ’ 

‘ To-morrow at the hour of noon, more or less, and 
not till then. You may be present the whole time. 
Indeed, I should prefer it. But there will be practi- 
cally^ nothing for you to do. I must now go and get 
a camera. Some ink in a saucer, or in the palm of 
the hand would be better. But I shall want a little 
child, and there is the difficulty. A girl of about 
twelve would be the best ; but I suppose that is out 
of the question. Can you get an intelligent, blue- 
eyed, curly-headed boy of about ten or twelve, and 
bribe him with fruit and bonbons to come here for an 
hour ? We must make the boy do, though the girl 
— ach, mein Gott ! those stupid priests ! and actually 
when we are doing good and working in the cause of 


Captain Edwardes* Narrative 143 
-would have been far more sympathetic and 

plastic/ 

I told him I could get the very hoy he wanted, if 
nothing* were to he done that he could much chatter 
about. He was the son of a boatman, a widower 
with whom my skipper had made acquaintance. 
The grandmother kept house, and hardly ever went 
beyond the doors except to haggle in the market or 
at the ships, and the children ran about on the 
beach. But they were respectable, intelligent, and 
very quick. 

He reflected for a few minutes. ‘ The thing shall 
be done on the yacht,’ he said ; ‘ we will run no risk 
of interruption. No one will think anything of our 
taking the boy on board the yacht. Can you man- 
age that ? ’ 

^ Oh, I can manage that easily.’ 

‘ Then let you and me and the boy and the worthy 
skipper be on board the yacht at an hour before 
noon to-morrow, so that we may be at work as the 
sun turns the meridian; and tell yoiir skipper to 
manage to send all the hands on shore, on some ex- 
cuse or other, from eleven till two in the afternoon 
at least, and to keep watch on deck v/hile we are 
below, that there may be no interruption. If inter- 
ruption occurred, this old demon — may his brain be 
smelted and his heart be roasted ! — would at once 
know what we were at, and we might have to begin 
work all over again. 

‘Bring also with you a photograph of the poor 
dear FrMein, taken as recently as possible, and a 
large lock of her hair. I will provide everything 


144 


Adventiii'es of Lucy Smith 


else. You may tell her that the photograph anc? 
the hair are for us to hunt down her enemies. A^nd 
now I must go and make some curious purchases. 
Will you come with me ? ’ 

' No ; I will get my part of the work done. You 
look to your purchases. How soon shall we meet ? ’ 
‘ In a couple of hours,’ said the professor. ^ The 
drugs I want are not ordinarily considered danger- 
ous to humanity, or even potent, and I shall have no 
difhculty in procuring them.’ 

When I got back to the hotel he was waiting for 
me, and a porter was with him with a wooden box 
rather larger than a despatch box, hut otherwise 
plain. 

‘ Let us come at once,’ said he, ‘ on hoard the 
yacht, and stow this carefully. You have arranged 
for the child to be on board at the time I men- 
tioned ? ’ 

I nodded. 

" It is well. To-morrow, my son, we will fight this 
brute with his own weapons, but luckily with weap- 
ons far stronger than his own. Wretch ! he hardly 
knows the craft in which he dares to dabble. I won- 
der he has never yet been torn in pieces by the 
Powers he trifles with.’ 


Captain Edivardes' Narrative 


145 


i)/> 


CHAPTER XX. 

Next morning* the professor and I and the boy 
were in the saloon a good half-hour before the time 
appointed. The crew had all been sent ashore with 
the exception of the skipper and the cabin boy, and 
had gone in the long-boat. The boy was now sent 
ashore in the dingey upon some trifling errands, with 
the most explicit assurance that he would be rope’s- 
ended if he returned before three hours were over. 

The skipper, a stolid man who had confidence in 
me and was wholly devoid of curiosity, had his orders 
to remain on deck, to haul up the companion, and on 
no account to let anybody come aboard. 

‘ There’s no mischief going on, skipper,’ I said. 

‘ Not likely, sir,’ he replied in his broad, soft Essex 
tongue, and with an expansive smile rippling over 
his great hairy features. ‘We’ve cruised together 
many a league, you and I, sir, by buoy, light, and 
compass.’ 

‘ But you must see that we are left quite alone.’ 

‘ All right, sir. ’ 

Down the three of us went into the cabin. Then 
Althaus commenced proceedings. 

First he lit the swing- lamp ; then he locked the 
companion door, and the door forward into the 
steward’s cabin and waist; then he closed every 


146 


Adventures of Lnicy Smith 


port-hole most carefall^^, so that but for the Jamp 
should have been entirely in the dark. The^v he trook 
hold of the boy by the wrist with his fing-er op his 
pulse, and said in French, ‘ You are not afraid of us 
two gentlemen, my boy ? ’ 

‘Mais non, m’sieu.’ 

^ Then here are three francs for you. Put them in 
your pocket.’ 

The lad’s e^^es opened like great tea-saucers, and 
he promptly acted on the hint, counting each franc 
and biting it between his hard, shining teeth before 
he stowed it away. 

Then Althaus produced a great box of cheap bon- 
bons, such as the children of the poor affect, and six 
francs more, which he placed on the lid of it in a cir- 
cle. 

The boy’s eyes fired with wonder. He could not 
realize that such a gift was for himself. 

‘ You shall have that box and those francs all for 
yourself in an hour from now, my little brave, if you 
do exactly as you are told. But ’ — and Althaus 
lifted his finger warningly — ‘if you are obstinate 
and make a little pig of yourself we shall put you 
ashore.’ 

‘ I will be very good, m’sieu — as good as if I were 
at Mass.’ 

There was a quaint twinkle in Althaus’ eyes. He 
took the boy gently by the shoulders and placed him 
in the centre of the small end of the cabin table. 
Then from his stores he produced a large saucer, 
or rather basin, which looked as if it were of pure 
silver, and placed it under the boy’s eyes. Into 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 14 T 

this, out of a large stoppered bottle (warning me to 
keep as quiet as my impatience would permit me and 
on no account to disturb the boy’s attention ) he be- 
gan to pour some fluid which immediately sent out a 
strong smell of magnolia blossoms. He kept on fill- 
ing the vessel till it was nearly an inch deep. The 
colour at first was iridescent like that of opal. Then 
it turned ruby red. Then it changed to malachite 
green. Then to the deepest lapis lazuli purple. 
Then it simmered and effervesced. Then, as the 
effervescence subsided, I saw that it was the very 
deepest black, and lustrous as a mirror, but that, 
strangely enough, although it threw back the light 
of the swinging lamp, no object in the cabin was re- 
flected in it. 

Althaus’ e^^es met mine, and with, as I thought, 
unnecessary sternness, he lifted his forefinger and 
motioned me to silence and stillness. I had never 
seen a man so changed. He looked keen and trium- 
phant, with the fierce light in his eyes of a man who 
sees certain success before him. He stood as erect 
as if he were only one-and-twenty, and he was as 
alert and watchful as a French swordsman fighting 
a outrance. 

‘ Look,’ he said to the boy, ‘ do not lift your eyes. 
Only speak when I ask you questions. What do 
you see ? ’ 

The boy replied in a voice which betrayed neither 
terror nor interest. Althaus might have been ask- 
ing him the hour of the day or the nearest route to 
the market-place. 

‘Nothing, m^sieu.’ 


148 


Adventures of iMcy Smith 


‘Good boy. Keep on looking. Presently you 
will see something pretty and something droll.’ 
Then he hurriedly placed on the table six glass 
lamps, as it seemed to me in a circle, but I noticed 
that he arranged three first in a triangle, and then 
arranged the other three in a similar triangle, work- 
ing back the reverse way, and interlacing the two 
figures. Then he lit them. They sent up a pure 
white light, with a strange odour which I could not 
at all recognise, but which was in no way unpleas- 
ant. 

Then behind the lamps the professor placed a small 
brazier, apparently of silver, and applied a light to 
it. The charcoal in it immediately flickered up. 

All this time the boy, as dutiful as if he had been 
mesmerised or charmed, never lifted his eyes for the 
fraction of a second from the ink before him. He 
evidently believed something was going to happen, 
and believed it firmly. 

The brazier must have been thin, for its centre 
was already showing red-hot with the fiames be- 
neath. Althaus, again motioning me to silence, 
reproduced the silver box and threw some powders 
from it on the heated surface. Up shot a column of 
smoke, which spread out into a cloud and made the 
cabin darkness hardly visible. Then he threw upon 
the fiames the photograph I had given him, which 
withered up in an instant as if it had been cast into a 
furnace. The boy remained immovable. 

Next the professor produced half the lock of hair, 
and cast it in on the ashes of the photograph. ‘ Do 
you see anything now ? ’ 


Captain Edivardes' Narrative 149 

‘Yes,’ replied the bo}^, as quickly as if in answer 
to a magnetic stroke. ‘ I see a lady.’ 

‘ Where is she ? ’ 

‘ In a large room.’ 

‘ Now be good. Do not move. Look again. Do 
you still see the lady ? ’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘ Go on looking. Do you see an old man ? ’ 

The boy hesitated, and I seemed to feel a curious 
sensation as if the floor of the room were moving 
under me. 

‘ Do you see an old man ? ’ repeated Althaus 
firml}^ 

‘Yes, I do. Oh, a wicked-looking old man.’ 

‘ Where is he ? ’ 

‘ He is in a big room like this, but with shelves all 
round, and bottles and horrible-looking things, and 
he is first taking down one thing from the shelves, 
and then another. ’ 

Althaus grasped me firmly and peremptorily by 
the wrist. ‘ Is he very old ? ’ 

‘ Older than grandfather, but taller, and his hair 
is longer, and he stoops much more. And oh ! ’ — 
here the boy called out again, not in terror, but in 
curiosity — ‘ there is an ugl^^ old woman with him 
like one of the beggars in front of the cathedral at 
Rouen, and they are both looking about among the 
bottles.’ 

Again my wrist was grasped. 

‘ Leave the room. Are you on the stairs ? ’ 

‘ Yes, m’sieu.’ 

‘ Descend the stairs. Are you in the hall ? ’ 


150 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


‘Yes, m’sieu/ 

‘ What do you see again ? ’ 

‘ Great stuffed monkeys and crocodiles and 
snakes.’ 

‘ Good, my hoy. Courage ! Do you see the hall 
door ? ’ * 

‘Yes, m’sieu.’ 

‘ Open it. Are you in the garden ? ’ 

‘ Yes, m’sieu.’ 

‘ Do you see the garden gate ? ’ 

‘Yes, m’sieu.’ 

‘ Pass out along the road. Turn to the left. 
Run. Run as quickly as you can. Run with 
all your might, or perhaps they will run after 
you.’ 

‘ I am running, m’sieu, but oh, I am out of breath ! 
Oh, I am out of breath ! Oh that terrible old man ! 
Oh that frightful old woman ! ’ 

‘ Silence, my child ; they shall not harm you. Do 
you come near a village ? ’ 

‘ Oh yes, m’sieu. ’ 

‘ What do you see ? ’ 

‘A village green, with children.’ 

‘ Is there a sign-post there ? ’ 

‘ Yes, m’sieu.’ 

‘ With how many limbs ? ’ 

‘Three, m’sieu; only three.’ 

‘ Look at the one in the direction from which you 
came. Spell me the letters on it. What does it 
say ? Quick ! ’ 

The boy in his French pronunciation spelt out ‘ To 
Crowthorpe. ’ 


Captain Edimrdes^ Narrative 151 

‘ Now the other. ’ 

Again he spelt out with difficulty 'To Chisle- 
hurst. ’ 

' Now the third. ’ 

This was more easy : ' To London.’ 

'Good hoy,’ cried Althaus. ^ Brave enfant. 
Little corporal.’ And he caught the child up in his 
arms and ran up on deck where the skipper was 
waiting. 

' Take the hoy,’ he said, thrusting him into that 
functionary’s arms, ' and put him down in your 
bunk. You will find he will go to sleep at once. 
Stop with him and watch him, please. ’ 

The skipper looked to me for approval, and obeyed 
instantly. 

Then Althaus turned to me with a strangely 
solemn face. 'We have got our finger,’ said he, 
' on the tarantula in his hole, the viper in his 
lair, the pieuvre in his cave. God allows no 
other monsters to live at all such as these. And 
this one is worse than them all. But we have 
our fingers now round his throat. And ’ — here 
the old man shut his eyes and his voice dropped 
— ' he ought to die ! Such monsters should not be 
allowed to live ! ’ 

He spoke in a deep, low, earnest voice, with the 
enthusiasm of one of the old Hebrew prophets, de- 
nouncing at the risk of his life the sins of his nation. 
I was bewildered. 

'You do not see the fitness of things,’ he con- 
tinued; ‘you will see it presently. Let us come 
back to the hotel. Let us see Miss Smith.’ 


152 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


We made our way back to the hotel in silence, 1 
marvelling over what I had witnessed, he evidently 
proud that his experiment had succeeded, and deter- 
mined that it should bear fruit. 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 


153 


CHAPTER XXI. 

We found Lucy, so Althaus told me, calmer, 
quieter, and better. Indeed, he declared there was 
a perceptible increase of strength. 

‘ I think, my dear, you will have no more dreams 
for some time, and in all probability never. When 
was the last ? ’ 

‘ Three nights ago, but it was not quite so bad as 
usual.’ 

‘Strange,’ he said, looking at me; ‘it was the 
day before I arrived. Well, our patient is weak. 
We must not stop with her and tire her. — Ask the 
doctor w^hen he comes if you may have a glass of 
champagne and water every hour. Tell him, my 
child, you have a strange craving for it. Drink a 
whole glass, and a large one, and let it be all cham- 
pagne with no water, for you are getting better. 
And it is justifiable to commit a little pious fraud 
now and again upon these old Diafoiruses. If he 
says no, or wants to give you half the quantity, say 
nothing, but do as I tell you all the same. Do not 
read; and sleep as much as you can. 

Then the professor took me by the arm, and we 
went and sat down on a seat on the plage, which 
was wholly unoccupied, with not even a homie and 
children near it. Indeed, everybody seemed to be 


154 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


on the beach and in the gardens of the Casino, ex- 
cept a few valetudinarians who were being wheeled 
up and down in Bath chairs. 

^You and I,’ said he, ‘must go and drag this 
old fiend out of his hole. There is little or no dan- 
ger, nor would either of us fear it for a moment if 
there were. He will cower and tremble before us, 
and whine for mercy like a hound. If I find it 
necessar^^ I shall make him swear by an oath, which, 
if he breaks, his spirits will tear him to pieces. W e 
will start to-night.’ 

We started that night without disturbing Lucy, 
who we were assured was sleeping peacefully, but 
we gave the most careful instructions as to her care 
and treatment should there be any change in her 
symptoms for the worse. Then we left by the night' 
boat. 

We made our way to Newhaven, and from New- 
haven to Chislehurst. 

At Chislehurst we stopped at a small hotel known 
as the Crown ; and when we had engaged rooms and 
were soon seated quietly together, Althaus with 
some schnapps and I with a cigar, I burst out at 
once as the waiter closed the door, ‘ When shall we 
begin ? To-day, of course.’ 

‘ Patience, my dear young friend. Certainly not 
to-day. Your nerves are unstrung by excitement 
and by your voyage. You must have rest, nature’s 
own rest. We will begin to-morrow. Now we will 
walk out into the village.’ 

We carried out the professor’s suggestion and 
went out into the village, which is a straggling kind 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 155 

of place. Before many minutes we had tumbled on 
the very house the boy had described. A high brick 
wall, as high as those in the London suburbs such as 
Twickenham and Richmond, screened it from the 
road and ran all round it, being coped at the top by 
a formidable chevaux-de-frise of broken glass. 

In one of the carriage drives on the left-hand side 
was a small wicket, with a latch cut in the very cen- 
tre of the door. There was no name painted up on 
the gateway or pilasters; and immediately behind 
the wall poplars and cedars and Scotch pines, evi- 
dently extending some distance into the grounds, 
rendered a view of the house impossible. 

‘ No fool,’ said Althaus musingly. ‘ He has picked 
out a splendid place. He could hardly have made 
himself a better if he had tried to build one from his 
own damnable designs.’ 

The old man spoke with a certain enthusiasm, and 
with no moral feeling one way or the other — exactly 
as a naturalist might point out a puff-adder and ob- 
serve complacently that it was a remarkably fine 
specimen, and that if it were in good condition, and 
not torpid from a recent meal, its bite would certain- 
ly^ be fatal to a strong healthy man in less than 
seven minutes, and to a horse in about thirty^ 
Science is a curious passion with its votaries. 

^ But what are we to do ? ’ I asked. 

‘ Nothing to-day^, as I have said. We shall find 
him to-morrow at noon. And now talk no more of 
the subject to me. I am like one of your sporting 
guns ready^ cleaned, which will tarnish almost im- 
mediately if you handle it with a warm hand. Pur- 


156 


Adventures of Lnicy Smith 


sue me with jmur warm eager tongue ; mein lieher 
Gott in Himmel! I shall be tarnished to -morrow 
morning, and unfit for use. To-morrow we have to 
fight. Your energy will be of the body. You are 
young and strong. Take wine, food, tobacco — all 
in moderation. Dismiss things from your mind, and 
trust to me for success. But, ach ! talk to me not 
to-night. Question me not. These poor old brains 
of mine must be scoured and edged in the laboratory 

of meditation till ’ and here the strange light 

leaped into his eyes which I had once or twice seen 
before, and transformed his whole face. ‘ They are 
true and edged as a blade from Damascus itself, the 
holy city of Eliezer. Talk no more of this. You 
will unfit me for to-morrow’s work.’ 

So we went back to the hotel and dined, and after 
dinner Althaus sent down for a long clay pipe of the 
kind commonly known as churchwarden, and care- 
fully washed it out, and then smoked through it 
many pipes of mild tobacco, remarking at intervals 
with a grunt that his nerves would take care of 
themselves. 

But before we parted for the night he went to his 
drug-chest, and produced and showed me a sub- 
stance. 

‘ What is that ? ’ he asked. 

‘ A lump of camphor, is it not ? ’ 

‘ And that ? ’ 

‘ A lump of charcoal.’ 

‘ And that ? ’ 

‘ I do not know.’ 

‘ Because you have never seen so lai'ge a piece be- 


Captain Edivai'des^ Narrative 157 

fore. It is simply gum benzoin, a variety of gum 
arabic.’ 

He ordered up three soup plates and a large 
jug of water. We were living liberally, and the 
servants made no demur to any eccentricity. He 
filled the three soup plates with water. In one 
he placed the benzoin, in another the charcoal, in 
another the camphor. All three trembled on the 
surface and then moved to the edge of the plate, 
where they adhered. He looked at me demanding 
silence. 

I could see nothing, but I watched. In two or 
three minutes the camphor was agitated. Then it 
began to quiver — violently for so small a piece — 
and then it commenced to travel round and round 
the vessel in which it was confined, taking its course 
from east to west with a motion as steady as that of 
a machine, and rotating at the same time upon its 
own axis. 

‘ Explain me that,’ said the professor. 

I shook my head hopelessly. 

^Why does the camphor move, and why do the 
charcoal and the gum stand still ? Come, its a prob- 
lem for a schoolboy. ’ 

I shook my head again. 

^ Well, you have seen it. You would not have be- 
lieved it if you had only been told it, even by myself. 
You would probably have betted against the thing 
happening at your own regimental mess. You may 
bet upon it in safety any time you please, when all 
troubles are over, and you are married to that lovely 
girl. Look again. The camphor is still going 


158 


Adventures of iMcy Smith 


round and round as sedulously as a planet, while the 
charcoal and the g-um are still. There is no magic 
in this. But now let us brace up our brains by sleep, 
for to-morrow we shall want magic in earnest. 
Good-night. Go to bed at once, and go to sleep as 
soon as you can. Wash yourself thoroughly from 
head to foot in cold water, without any soap or mix- 
tures, and take care if you can help it that you do 
not scratch or abrade your skin by so much as would 
equal the bite of a small gnat. Avoid even shaving 
yourself to-morrow. This is important. Again 
good-night. We will rise’ — and he took a memo- 
randum from his pocket— ‘ at six to-morrow morning 
and walk for an hour. Saturn will have set for some 
time, and Jupiter will rise, though he will not be 
visible at five minutes to seven. We will pa3^ that 
most benevolent planet our deepest respects, and 
will go out on the lawn and watch him back to his 
couch. ’ 

So we parted for the night, and for a moment 
a curious suspicion crept over my brain. Was 
he mad himself? Was he pretending to do more 
than he could do, or know, or had even read of 
in his old books of alchemy ? But I remem- 
bered my father’s long acquaintance with him. 
I remembered the success on board the yacht, 
and I dismissed the idea as unworthy and ungen- 
erous. 

I fell asleep almost instantly. Perhaps the pro- 
fessor may have played some little tricks on me 
without my knowledge. At all events, I neither 
dreamed nor stirred in the night. I awoke to the. 


Captain Edivardes^ Narrative 159 

moment, refreshed and vigorous, and I descended to" 
find Althaus in the hall, awaiting my arrival with 
an eye radiant like that of a hawk, and a step as 
noiseless and lissom as that of a panther. A won- 
derful old man, indeed. 


160 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


LUCY SMITWS NARRATIVE, 


CHAPTER XXII. 

When I woke in the morning* after my long con- 
versation with Professor Althaus and Captain 
Edwardes, I felt strangely refreshed and clear in my 
mind. I might almost have been at school again. 
I had no horrors, no dreads, no anticipations. I 
went to the window and opened the curtains, and the 
pleasant sun came streaming in, and with it came 
the noise and twitter of small birds. 

My senses somehow were keener than usual, and I 
could hear the little creatures hopping from place to 
place on the window-sill. I tried to distinguish dif- 
ferences in their note, but I was unable to do so. 

One is often told that the most delightful pleasure 
in the world is to get into a Comfortable bed and - go 
to sleep. For myself, I believe that there is a higher 
physical pleasure — merely physical, but in its wa}^ 
unsurpassed. It is to wake slowly and deliberately, 
and with all your faculties about you, and then to 
begin quietly to think what you are going to do foi* 
the day. 

I dressed and went out. I roamed a little upon 
the beach, and then in the Casino grounds, and then 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


161 


I loitered into the Casino itself, and looked at some 
papers and had an ice. It was dreary to wait for 
my deliverance, hut I trusted that the end was com- 
ing-, and, in common phraseology^, I held on. 

At last I strolled back to the hotel. There I found 
a telegram which for the time, at all events, relieved 
me. It ran thus : 

‘ Althaus and I have found out everything. At 
this minute you are quite safe. Worry about noth- 
ing. You will be troubled no more. We shall be 
with you soon. We are hurrying.’ 

How strange this was ! Could dear Dr. Althaus 
really have liberated me ? It seemed wonderful that 
he should have been able to do so, and yet he was a 
scholar and a learned man, and a gentleman, and 
kind, so that I felt I ought to believe in him. He had 
seemed very quiet and reticent ; but I felt sure that 
when he put his hand out, there would be in it the 
whole strength of his wrist. 

Then a curious idea came into my head. My life 
up to now had been a succession of puzzles and diffi- 
culties. How was I to trust in anything? How 
was I even to trust in myself? I had no strength, 
no knowledge. I had nothing to help me in any way. 
Wherever I went, my hideous, ghastly, abominable 
troubles might follow me. I had no security what- 
ever against their renewal. I was powerless, hope- 
less, helpless. I felt worse than a slave. Arthur’s 
telegram was certainly reassuring, but what if he 
were too sanguine ? 

On the table was a little plate of sugar. I took a 
lump from it and placed it at some distance from the 


162 


Adventures of lAicy Smith 


plate. A came down and settled on the lump. 
I hurriedly clapped a wine-glass over the fly. 

‘ Poor little fly/ said I, ^ I will let you loose very 
soon, hut why cannot you let me loose ? Is there no 
magic in the world, little fly ? Do you not know 
curious things? Have you not been in strange 
places ? Can you not help me ? ^ 

The fly walked about the lump of sugar and 
nibbled at it. Then I lifted up the glass and it took 
its departure, having no notion of how it got under 
the glass, or what the glass was, or even, so far as 
I could see, that it had ever been imprisoned at all. 
The glass had no more troubled it than the great 
vault of heaven troubles us — that is to say, what 
used to be understood b^^ the vault of heaven. For, 
of course, every little girl who is going to Girton 
some day now knows that space extends infinitely 
in all directions, or that, as Kant demonstrated, we 
cannot help thinking of it as doing so, and are con- 
sequently bound to believe that it dofes. 

I understood, of course, rather more of myself than 
did the fly, but it was not so very much after all ; 
nothing to be particularly proud of. I have a mean- 
ing in all this, thougli I am not at all sure that I am 
bringing it out. 

That night I had no dreams. Next morning I 
went out on to the beach and roamed about listlessly. 
You must remember that I had only been a poor 
English governess, and that to be at Dieppe with 
money, to be able to do whatever I pleased, was 
a strange thing for me, and indeed a new exist- 
epce. 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


163 


I roamed about the beach again. I loitered in the 
Casino, and at last I began to feel thoroughly hap- 
j}y. There was a place b^^ the shore where a num^ 
f ber Of bathing tents were pitched, and where 
bathers were indiscriminately disporting themselves, 
happily, pleasantl^^, and innocently, as is the habit 
of bathers at French watering-places. 

I did not feel disposed to bathe, but I sat down 
opposite the tents and watched the little crowd en- 
joying themselves. A curious sense of freedom per- 
meated me, and made me feel thoroughly happy and 
forgetful of my terrible troubles. I looked up at the 
sky. It was one vast expanse of blue, except where 
a few short white clouds were hurriedly flitting 
across it, hardly moderating their pace sufficiently 
to throw their shadow. The sea was a brilliant tur- 
quoise. Towards the horizon it broke away into 
green, and then into misty shades of white. 

I began to feel a strange desire to travel. I won- 
dered if I could get rid of my horrible affliction, and 
realize my hopes, and lead for the rest of my days a 
happy life. 

In this frame of mind I made my way back to the 
liotel, and by inquiry at the bureau I contrived to 
have brought up to me a number of dilapidated 
volumes about yachting and cruising. I am bound 
to confess that either I was stupid or they did not 
teach me very much. Everything that was in them 
told you how to tie a rope three times over. It may 
be very useful at times to perform this operation, 
but because you can do so it does not follow that 
you are fit to take part in a run from Liver- 


164 


'Adventures of L/ucy Smith 


pool to New York. So I gave the business up. 
There was nothing else to be done. I would have 
done anything if I could to please Arthur by picking- 
up yachting terms and reproducing them, but T had 
really very little chance. The language of a craft 
is altogether unintelligible to the uninitiated, and a 
governess on a forecastle would not be less ridicu- 
lous than a boatswain, however well meaning, in a 
nursery full of little girls. 

It was still bright daylight. I lay looking dream- 
ily at the open casement, listening listlessly to the 
murmur of sounds that floated through it, too com- 
fortable to even move my arm, but with my mind at 
last untroubled as I began to realize that Arthur 
and kind Dr. Althaus, wherever they might be at 
the moment, would allow no evil to even threaten 
me. 

How long I lay like this I cannot say. No clock 
met my eye anywhere, nor through the open window 
had I heard one chime. But of one thing I was sure 
— that I was quite safe, and being carefully watched, 
so the lids closed over my eyes, and I slept again. 


Captain Edtvardes’ Narrative 


165 


CAPTAIN EDWARDES^ NARRATIVE, 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

‘ We had better,’ said Althaus, ^ as I told you last 
night, be at his house at noon exactly. I rather 
think he suspects there is trouble about for him, but 
has no idea of what it is or who we are. Did you 
notice the garden doors last night ? ’ 

‘ Yes.’ 

' Have you anything that would force open the 
carriage gates or the wicket ? ’ 

I smiled. ‘ I have got the very thing from the 
ostler ; ’ and I showed him a small crowbar which 
you could carry in the pocket of a shooting coat. It 
was of stout iron and about a foot and a quarter in 
length, as thick as an ash walking-stick, and in 
every respect a most formidable weapon. 

‘That,’ said I, looking at it almost with affection, 

‘ will wrench any ordinary door off its hinges, or 
force open any ordinary obstacle as easily as a pick- 
axe will pull up a paving stone.’ 

‘Very well,’ replied Althaus, ‘ that is all we want. 
We have only to get face to face with him. And, 
my dear fellow, once again, no violence. Leave his 
punishment to God.’ 


166 


Adventures of Ldicy Smith 


I wrung my old friend by the hand, and we said 
no more of what was to be done that day until we 
found ourselves upon the scene of action, and stand- 
ing in front of the gates that led into the road. 

From noon to one in a Kent village is the dullest 
hour in the day. During those sixty minutes the 
rustics dine. They leave off work at the stroke of 
twelve with ideas before them of such flesh-pots as 
their imagination can comprehend. At about flve 
minutes to one they are draining the last drops of 
ale out of their pots and flagons, and wiping their 
mouths with the backs of their hands. The only 
person during that hour who has his wits about him 
is the beer-shop keeper, whose mind is intent upon 
the back of his door and his piece of chalk. We 
were therefore entirely alone and unnoticed. 

There was a great hanging bell with a chain. 

^Pull,’ said the professor. 

I did so. We did not even hear a dog bark. But 
the bell clanged noisily, and up above the wall and 
out of the trees that hid the house rose a noisy chat- 
tering flock of birds, evidently unaccustomed to the 
sound. 

‘I now begin to think,’ said Althaus, ‘that he 
knows who we are and why we are here. We will 
give him two minutes by your watch, and will then 
burst his doors.’ 

For two minutes we waited. 

‘One more ring,’ said Althaus; ‘give him a 
chance, although he must have heard the last.’ 

I rang again, and we waited another two minutes. 
It was now exactly six minutes past twelve. I 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 167 

looked at the professor, and he nodded. I put the 
little crowbar between the lock of the latchet and 
the body of the gate. I gave one short wrench, and 
the gate flew open before us. 

We passed through it, closed it behind us. and 
found ourselves on a semicircular gravel walk run- 
ning round the lawn. In the centre of the sweep 
was the house which I had heard Lucy describe. 

We walked briskly up to the door. As we ap- 
proached it opened, and we saw standing in the 
doorway the old man of whom we had so often 
talked. He looked steadily enough at me, and as if 
by lifting his hand he could strike me to the ground. 
Of me. he evidently had no fear. But when his 
features fell on Althaus he suddenly became con- 
fused and nervous, and apparently full of terror. 

‘ You know why we are here ? ’ asked Althaus in 
measured tones, 
ado.’ 

‘ You know what we want ! ’ 

a do.’ 

^ What is your decision ? ’ 

‘ It shall be as you wish. I swear it. Now leave 
me. You terrify me.’ 

‘If you attempt to deceive me,’ said Althaus, 
‘you will pay dearly for it. Now come into the 
house.’ 

The old man tremblingly obeyed. ‘ What do you 
wish me to do first ? ’ he asked. 

‘We have come,’ said Althaus firmly, ‘ for a piece 
of writing on vellum which you have. ’ 

‘ A piece of writing on vellum ? ’ 


168 


Adventures of Lucy Snuth 


‘You know perfectly well the one I mean,’ tliun- 
dei'ed Althaiis. ‘ It is sig-ned “ Lucy Smith. ” ’ 

The old man tremblingly thrust his withered hand 
into the recesses of his long robe, and handed 
Althaus what seemed like a piece of parchment. 

My friend took it from him and looked at it ; then 
rolled it up and thrust it into his own bosom. 

‘ Is there more you would have of me ? ’ asked the 
old magician in a hollow voice. 

‘ Yes,’ said Althaus, looking at him with a glance 
of intense scorn. ‘ Make your peace Avith God while 
you have yet time ; and may He forgive you some 
portion of the evil to which your accursed life has 
been given. Down on your knees, dog ! Down, and 
humble yourself for the mercy you have never 
shown ! Your life is spared this time ; but as there 
is a God in heaven, if ever you attempt anything of 
this kind again — and I shall know of it, you dog, if 
3^ou do — I will kill you as I would a reptile. You 
don’t doubt my power to make hiy words good ? ’ 

‘I recognize your power,’ answered the old man 
submissively. 

‘ And I shall exercise it if necessary,’ said 
Althaus. ‘Nothing shall persuade me to spare 
you if you put to a bad use the reprieve I have 
given you.— And now, Edwardes, let us depart. 
This den is stifling. The very atmosphere that 
Avretch breathes is full of contagion.’ 

We turned to go, when suddenly Althaus ap^ 
peared to recollect something. 

‘ Come here,’ he said to the magician. 

The old man obeyed, and tottered across the 


Captain Edimrdes^ Narrative 169 

room. Althaus seized his left hand, and dragging: 
him towards him, whispered something in his ear. 

What the professor said I know not, nor did I 
ever inquire ; hut it must have been of strange and 
serious import, for on hearing it the old magician 
uttered a fearful cry — a cry so shrill and so piercing 
that it rang in my ears for days afterwards — and 
fell down in a fit or faint, and lay motionless. 

‘ He is dead ! ’ I cried. 

‘ Not he,’ replied Althaus, feeling his pulse. ‘ He’ll 
come to, presently. Poor fool, to attempt to dabble 
in arts like these. I think I somewhat astonished 
him. You may sleep contentedly to-night, my dear 
Edwardes, our dear Miss Lucy will never be troubled 
again.’ 


170 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Before we had made, as sailors term it, three or 
four hundred yards, I felt extremely ill. 

‘ What is the matter, Edwardes ? ’ asked Althaus. 
‘ I see you stagger. Stop ! ’ 

He put his hand to his breast and produced a 
small vial of heavily cut white glass. As he took 
out the stopper the air seemed to become filled at 
once with the scent of cloves. He dropped three 
drops of the contents of this bottle into the palm of 
his left hand, touched their surface with the little 
finger of his right hand, and motioned to me to open 
my mouth. 

I did so, and felt a something fluid touch my 
tongue. Then, for a moment, there was a blaze, as 
if light were flashed before my eyes. Then I found 
myself standing erect, with all my natural sense of 
life and muscular power restored. Althaus looked 
at me with earnest eyes. ‘ It is,’ said he, ‘ the near- 
est approach we have, though far off indeed, but 
still the nearest, to the elixir of life. Have you your 
strength again ? ’ 

My answer was to lift myself to my full height and 
look him in the face. 

‘Good,’ answered he. ‘And now let us hasten 
back to Dieppe.’ 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 171 

We paid our bill at the hotel, packed hurriedly, 
and caught the next London train. Arrived at 
Charing Cross, we had exactly time to dash to Vic- 
toria, where we secured a carriage to ourselves. I 
may fairly own, and I am hot ashamed of it, that 
my nerves for the time were thoroughly shattered. 
There was a buzzing in my ears, my pulse beat 
irregularly, and the scenes we had gone through 
kept rising up again as vividly before my mind as if 
they were being re-enacted. 

I did all I could to steady myself, but my efforts 
were far from being successful. 

Althaus himself was as completely unmoved as if 
he had just concluded some small business bargain, 
or got rid of some troublesome little matter which 
had been standing over longer than he had intended. 
He had armed himself with a big bottle of light 
Rhine wine, a pound or so of mild tobacco, and a 
meerschaum bowl at the end of a long cherry stem. 
He now smoked and drank with the solemn delibera- 
tion of a machine which has wound itself up to do 
less than its accustomed work in its accustomed 
time. 

I somehow guessed that the professor did not wish 
to talk, so I held my peace— resolved, however, one 
day that he should explain everything to me, in so 
far as I could understand it. 

When the journey from Hewhaven to Dieppe was 
about half over, the dear old man laid down his pipe 
and opened his lips. 

" Son of Sheitan ! ’ he said, in a tone of intense sat- 
isfaction, ' and yet the brute was bold. At least not 


172 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


bold so much as reckless, to have thus dabbled with 
magic. I wonder his familiars did not stand better 
by him. He must have somehow neglected or 
offended them. That, however ’ — and here he 
laughed grimly — ^ is his own matter. Tell me, Ed- 
wardes, do you recollect everything that has hap- 
pened since we started together on this joint excur- 
sion into the land of the devils ? ’ 

‘ Everything,’ I answered. 

^ Do you think you shall forget it ? * 

‘ Never.’ 

‘ Do you wish to remember it ? ’ 

‘ Certainly. It is wonderful.’ 

‘ Very good then, my dear young friend, you and 
I must have some talk to-morrow morning — not on 
board this beastly rolling boat, but when we get 
back to the hotel. And now I am an old man, and I 
am feeble. Ach ! the days are coming when I shall 
be imbecile, and my attendants will have to pacify 
me with sugar-plums as if I were a baby that knows 
not its letters. Wake me, my young friend, at the 
pier. Slap me on the back in your English fashion. 
Chide me, and say, Get up, old sleepy-head.” 
Ach! that old carrion! Well, my dear Edwardes, 
there is an Anglo-Saxon proverb, If you would 
take supper with the devil you must have a long 
spoon.” His spoon was not long enough ; that is 
all.’ And in a few minutes the professor was snor- 
ing like a sailor turned in from the second dog- 
watch. 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 


173 


LUCY SMITH’S NARRATIVE. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Some houi's passed. It may have been a day, or 
a couple of days. I cannot tell. Dr. Althaus had 
ordered me to take no account of time, to be sure 
that all was going* well, and to await their return in 
confidence. 

I had strictly acted upon his advice, or rather 
orders. I knew that Arthur had the fullest confi- 
dence in him, and had known of him for years. So 
really — strange as it may seem — I should have had 
to make inquiries to find out how long Arthur and he 
had been away. I had roamed about the town, sat 
at the Casino, bought fruit, and otherwise killed 
time. And I ought to add that I had felt a distinct 
confidence coming over me that all was well, that 
they would very soon be with me again, that they 
would bring good news, and that, to put things 
briefly, we should have a good time of it as soon as 
we were once again all together. 

It was in this frame of mind that I returned to the 
hotel, to be informed by the concierge at the door 
that a lady had been to see me. 

‘ What sort of lady ? ’ 


174 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

Indeed, the concierge could not say. She could 
not even say if the lady were old or young*, for she 
had a thick veil of black Brussels lace— oh! most 
magnificent lace — which she kept down. But the 
lady had asked for me. 

‘ Where is she ? ’ said I. 

She had made some inquiries about me, which the 
concierge had answered, seeing her to be a friend of 
mine. She had wanted to know when I came in and 
when I went out, and with whom I was staying. 
Oh, that the lady was a lady of the most elegant, a 
lady of the Faubourg St. Germaine, the concierge 
should opine, although, as it happened, she was not 
followed on this particular occasion by her man- 
servant. 

I was puzzled and uneasy. In the first place, I 
had never in my life known any one in Paris, or even 
in Prance. That alone made the thing strange. In 
the second place, I had certainly never known nor 
been known to any such leader of society as the con- 
cierge described. And then I reflected again 
whether she could be mistaken in her estimate of 
my visitor. This, of course, complicated the matter 
still more. For hotel porters in France, and, as I 
have since ascertained, in the United States, and 
with them almost all the other employes of the 
hotel, gain after a year or two’s service an instinctive 
knowledge of human nature that is something mar- 
vellous. They, as I have heard Arthur say, can at 
once detect a duke in a travel-stained suit of tweed, 
and a faro-mounter dressed, if such a thing were pos- 
sible, by Poole himself. They know their company. 


Lucy Smithes Narrative 


175 


‘ Did she say anything* more ? ’ I asked. 

‘She inquired at what hour she could see made- 
moiselle to-morrow, and I replied probably at half- 
past ten ; and she said she would call.’ 

^ ‘ But she left no name, or card, or letter ? ’ 

‘ None whatever. Absolutely none.’ 

‘ Good. I am not sure at all that I shall see her, 
but let me know when she comes, and bring up her 
name or her card, and, if possible, ascertain her 
business.’ 

‘ It shall be done, mademoiselle, as mademoiselle 
desires.’ 

I could see that my treatment of this incident had 
produced a bad impression on the mind of the con- 
cierge, I, a mere girl, with next to no luggage at 
all, and certainly without a maid, and coming in the 
company and under the care of a young gentleman, 
whose relations with me were simple enough on the 
face of it, but certainly admitting of more interpre- 
tations than one, was giving myself airs as great as 
if I had belonged to the court of the Empire in its 
most brilliant days. Had I seen the lady I should 
doubtless have been ecrasee. Could anything be 
more gauche, more stolid, more nearly barbarian, 
when I had had of the lady herself, from those who 
had seen her with their own eyes, and had had the 
honour of conversing with her (and of receiving a 
napoleon from her), accounts the most assuring, but 
as truthful as the Holy Mass itself ? 

So when I went to sleep that night my conduct in 
the hotel was no doubt freely discussed, and a highly 
adverse verdict taken upon it ; for your French, in 


ITG Adventures of Lucy Smith 

a great way or a small, put eveiything to the 
plebiscite, even if they he only three farm labour- 
ers discussing the chances of the wine crop and the 
probabilities of the reappearance of that punishment 
for sin and fidelity, the phylloxera. 

However, the ‘ grande dame ’ of the concierge was 
soon dismissed from my mind. There must be some 
mistake about it. Smith is so common a name. I 
might be any Miss Smith. At all events, I would 
see her next morning if I felt disposed. If not, I 
could plead headache or some other excuse. Perhaps, 
after all, she was only an agent or tout, from some 
man-milliner, or perfumer, or medisto, which would 
account for the solicitude shown in her behalf by the 
concierge. Why need I trouble myself ? 

I woke next merning earl}^ and feeling' stronger 
than ever. I was beginning to learn something of 
French habits. I had a cup of coffee with some 
milk and a pistolet. Then I dressed myself and 
ordered an open fiacre. 1} was happy because I 
knew that Arthur would return as soon as possible, 
and that meantime I had nothing to fear or to trouble 
me. So I drove along the plage, and had the thor- 
ough benefit of what I shall always think is the most 
glorious air in the whole Channel — certainly far finer 
than that of Eastbourne, as I had often heard Mr. 
Bulbrooke declare, making the concession gracious- 
ly, as one who can afford to be magnanimous and 
yield a point or two to the nation we beat at Water- 
loo. 

I returned to the hotel at about half past ten, and 
had just taken off my bonnet and jacket when the 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 1T7 

chambermaid came and told me that the lady awaited 
me in the salon. 

I opened the folding-doors, passed through them, 
and to jny utter horror found myself face to face with 
Mrs. Jackson — not Mrs. Jackson as I had always be- 
fore seen her, but Mrs. Jackson brilliantly dressed in 
the first style of Parisian fashion; Mrs. Jackson 
trembling with excitement, and with a fierce wild 
light in her eyes ; Mrs. Jackson looking terrible with 
concentrated rage and hatred. 


178 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

Although I knew nothing* at this moment of all 
that had happened, I was yet not so terrified as I 
might have been. I was sure the visit meant me no 
good, but I made up my mind to have the matter 
out. 

The table was between the two of us. I screwed 
up my courage, looked Mrs. Jackson full in the face, 
and said, ^ Sit down.’ 

" I shall not.’ 

It was difficult to answer this, but at last I did so. 

^ Then you may stand where you are. Xow what 
is your business, sorceress ? ’ 

have come to know why you have not been 
keeping your bargain, why you have not been doing 
your duty, why you are living here luxuriously on 
money paid you for a purpose which is definite, and 
which you understand as well as I do, and why you 
yet refuse to honestly do your duty in a simple 
matter.’ 

Looking back now, I almost wonder that I did not 
laugh at her . accusing me of want of honesty in not 
fulfilling the filthy t>argain into which, in most utter 
ignorance of its vile character, I had been entrapped. 

^ I shall decline to answer any of your questions, 
liar, thief, and witch ! So you need ask me no more. 


Lucy Smith’s Narrative 3 79 

And now there is the door by you ; you had better go 
back to those who sent you.’ 

^ I shall not go back. 1 shall stop with you until 
you have submitted yourself, and have signed a 
second document that I hdve brought with me for 
that purpose. The first was gentle. We meant 
kindly by you, and would have treated you well if 
you had been straightforward with us. You would 
soon have found yourself practically free. Some one 
else would have been selected to fill your place, and 
your income would have continued for your life. As 
it is, you have chosen to provoke us, and now that I 
am here you defy us. We can punish as certainly 
as we can reward, and when we punish we do so after 
deliberation and without mercy. I am in no hurry, 
and I tell you frankly that I intend to wait here for 
your answer, and to have it from you in writing. 

^ Kow 1 know the exact position of these apartments. 
If yon attempt to retreat into your bedroom I will 
follow you. If you attempt to ring the bell in this 
room you notice that you will have to pass me, and 
I wai'n you fairly that you will not pass me alive. I 
will strangle you.’ 

I looked at her in amazement, and saw to my sur- 
prise what I had not noticed before, that in spite of 
her age she was as lissom and muscular as a tiger- 
cat, and that her threat to strangle me was one which 
she would have been perfectly well able to carry out, 
and which I might take as seriously meant. 

^ Y ou will not be the first troublesome girl I have 
had to silence; but,’ she added contemptuously, ^I 
think yon will be about the weakest. When I have 


180 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

strangled you I shall put you in your bed. Then I 
shall lock the bedroom door on this side, and put the 
key in my pocket. Then I shall walk down the stairs 
and leave orders at the bureau, that you want some 
strong tea in two hour^’ time. I shall do this very 
politely. When I am once in the street my escape 
would be a matter of certainty, even if I had only the 
ordinary stupid powers of humanity to help me. So 
you see I have nothing to fear, and you have every- 
thing. Now sit there and consider. I will W'ait. 
Oh, you bread-and-butter English schoolgirl ! ’ This 
was spoken with personal hatred. ‘ I have always 
wondered what he can ever have seen in you, with 
your big splay feet, and your red hands, and your 
great stupid sheep’s face, and your bleat of a voice. 
Now consider.’ 

I sat, and I did consider. But I did not consider 
the matter from the point of view she had ordered 
me. I wondered how I could get out of the room. 
That idea, after a couple of minutes, I abandoned as 
wholly impossible. I reflected if there was any 
means whatever by which I could summon assist- 
ance. That, too, was hopeless. I was as helpless 
as a mouse in a trap. The only thing to do was to 
attempt to gain time in the chance of a waiter or a 
chambermaid coming without being summoned. 

‘ You ask me to decide a very great matter,’ I 
said. ‘ It is the whole of my life.’ 

‘ The more necessary that you should decide it at 
once, and not waste time over it, as you are clearly 
doing and intend to do. If your time is not of value 
— and I dare say it is not, either to yourself or any^ 


Ldccy Smith’s Narrative 


18L 


one else — my time is of value to me. Do not stir 
from the chair in which you are, I will keep my 
eyes on the clock, and if I have not j^our answer to 
the minute I shall he as good as my word. And re- 
member again, if you attempt to summon help I will 
strangle you/ 

I think about ten minutes had passed when I 
heard, as did she, a heavy step coming along the 
passage. In a second she was behind me, and a 
light shawl or something of the sort, that felt like 
muslin, was round my neck and twisted at the back 
of my head. 

‘ If you open your mouth,’ she whispered, ^ I will 
strangle you on the spot. ’ 

She could have fulfilled her threat easily. The 
muslin, or whatever it was, was twisted round my 
neck as I liave since heard they twist a bowstring 
in the East — the method is believed to have been in- 
vented or discovered by the Thugs, It is absolutely 
certain ; there is no escape from it, any more than 
there is for a mustang fairly lassoed. 

The steps died away in the distance and did not 
return. Then she removed the shawl from 103^ neck. 

*1 will be just to 3'ou,’ she said. ^ I am reall3^ in 
a wa3^ soriw for ^mu, although it is more than you 
deserve. Two minutes have been wasted bj^ the 
clock, and you must have been a little upset. Per- 
haps, however, 3mu are now convinced I am in earn- 
est, so I can afford to be generous with you. I will 
give you another full quarter of an hour over the 
time I mentioned. Do not stare at me in that child- 
like way. If you look at me 3mu will think of me. 


182 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

which will do you no good. It is the future you 
have to think of.’ 

I could think of nothing. I was getting dazed and 
silly, and there was a ringing in ray ears, and the 
moment I tried to look at any object fixedly the room 
began to whirl round and round. 

And now I wish to say one thing more — a very 
serious thing — and to say it as shortly as possible 
and with all reverence. I tried to pray for help. 
Somehow^ or other I could not form a prayer. I 
could not even remember the Lord’s Prayer, which 
I had known by heart long before I could read. I 
tried again and again to Temembcr it. 1 could not 
recollect even the first two woi’ds. 

The ringing in my ears had continued, but it had 
now become an immense booming, like that of some 
great cathedral bell. Strange lights and fires 
flashed before my eyes. I could see nothing but 
these coruscations, hear nothing but the boom of 
the bell. 

Then suddenlj^ I heard a terrible crash, which 
seemed to rouse me to my senses. The door was 
open. Arthur and Professor Althaus were in the 
room, and two or three other men with them. Then 
I felt Arthur’s arms around me, and he carried Jiie 
into the bedroom and laid me on the bed. And after 
that I was just aware that my face and hands were 
being sponged with eau de Cologne, and that I was 
being fanned. And then I remember nothmg more. 


Captain Edivardes' Narrative 


188 


CAPTAIN EDWABDES^ NABBATIVE. 


CHAPTER XXVIl. 

We landed at Dieppe, giving* orders for our small 
supply of luggage to be taken up to the hotel. Alt- 
haus took me by the arm. ‘ It is all right,’ said he. 
‘ Trouble not your mind. Miss Smith is alive and 
well, and no doubt expects us. But I think ’ — and 
here the old man looked curiously at me — ‘ there is 
still a little more work to be done. ’ 

‘ What can it possibly be ? ’ I asked impatiently. 
‘ For Heaven’s sake do not mystify me. Professor 
Althaus I I have had enough of mystification. ’ 

‘I do not wish to mystify you, my son. I 
would speak certainly if I knew certainly. I am 
only guessing. But let us hurry. ’ 

In three or four minutes we were on the steps of 
the hotel. 

‘ Is Miss Smith in ? ’ I asked. 

‘ Oh yes, sir ; and a lady is with her.’ 

Althaus looked at me. 

‘ What sort of lady ? ’ I continued. 

‘An old lad}^ sir, very handsomely dressed. She 
came in her own carriage.’ 

Althaus and I exchanged glances. I did not wait 


184 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

for him, but tore up the stairs, he following* at the 
best of his speed. 

I tried the door, found it open, and dashed into the 
room. In a chair at the further end of the table was 
seated Lucy, apparently in a swoon or fit, for her 
head had fallen forward on her chest. Standing* 
near the door and watching her from across the 
room was the old woman I had so often heai^d her 
describe. I recognised the hag at once. 

She turned round on me with an angry gleam in 
her eyes concentrated of every evil passion. It is 
idle, of course, to say that I felt no fear, but it was 
certain] 3’’ not for m3^self. I seized her right wrist in 
my right hand and twisted the arm round merci- 
lessly. She had to fall upon her knees, or the arm 
must inevitably have been dislocated at both shoul- 
der and elbow. There she was grovelling before me 
on the carpet, unable to ihove a quarter of an inch. 
She just essayed a slight struggle, and I gave the 
arm only the portion of an extra turn. She uttered 
a shriek of pain, and then remained motionless. 

Having thus secured m3^ prisoner in so firm a grip 
that I had no occasion to even cast an eye on her, I 
turned to look at Lucy. Althaus had lifted her on 
to the couch, and, with a promptitude really com- 
mendable for so aged a bachelor, had cut her dress 
bod 113^ open with his pocket-knife, giving the lungs 
and heart free play. 

He was now standing b3^ her head with his hand 
on her pulse, and he nodded to me cheerfull3^ In 
another second the room was fall of maid-servants, 
and among them a waiter or two. 


Captain Edwardes' Narrative 185 

'Hold this woman/ I roared to a stout porter. 
' I charge her with attempt to assassinate and rob- 
bery. ’ 

' Bien, m’sieu.’ He was a giant, and an Alsatian, 
whose principal duty it was to carry the heavy bag- 
gage. 

Then I went towards Lucy and Althaus. 'She 
has been dreadfully frightened,’ said the professor, 
'but that is all. I know the symptoms perfectly. 
They are those of collapse from terror. — Here, you 
mademoiselle, take Miss Smith and undress her 
gently. If her clothes give you any trouble, take 
the scissors and cut them off as you see I have done. 
Put her into bed. The most responsible of you sit 
by her, and let another be within call.’ 

I myself carried her to the bed, and the women 
with most implicit obedience flocked into the bed- 
room and closed the door behind them. Then Alt- 
haus came and stood by me, and for a second or two 
we looked in curiosity at the reptile coiled and 
twisted on the floor. The Alsatian said nothing. 
Alsatians are, as compared with other Frenchmen, 
a taciturn race. But he was evidently amused. If 
his thoughts could have been formulated, they 
would certainl}^ have been in colloquial English, 
'Here’s Queer Street of some sort.’ 

Althaus rang the bell sharply. Three chamber- 
maids appeared at once, as if they had sprung up 
out of the earth. There was a mystery evidently : 
the whole hotel knew as much, and the spirit of Eve 
was all abroad. 

' One of yon send for a sergent de ville,^ said the 


186 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

professor. ‘ One of you will be enough for that 
affair ; and send at onee, or I shall report you at 
the bureau.’ 

The women tossed their heads indignantly^ and left 
the room. Then Althaus shut the door, and sat 
down near it so as to command it. 

‘ Keep your hold on her/ he said to the giant, ^but 
do not hurt her unless she struggles.’ 

The giant grinned and nodded. The old woman 
darted at both of us a viperine flash of her eye. 

In a very few seconds there arrived the hotel pro- 
prietor in a state of immense excitement, followed by 
a couple of sergents de ville. The landlord wanted to 
know what all this disturbance was about in the old- 
est hotel in Dieppe — an hotel which since its founda- 
tion had been patronized by the illustrious House of 
Orleans, whose names were all in its books. We 
English seemed to think we could do as we pleased. 
He would show us English if we turned an hotel 
upside down we should have to.payforit. Why^ 
were we treating a respectable lady, evidently^ a lady 
of distinction, in this outrageous manner ? 

‘ You shall know, my brave,’ said Althaus calmly^ 
‘ if ymu will wait to be told instead of chattering like 
an old washerwoman at her tub ; and if ymu want it 
ymur bill shall be paid in ymur own moneys and we 
will go in an hour, so hold ymur tongue. Sergent ’ — 
and here Althaus came by^ me and laid his finger on 
my^ arm, although no one saw him do so — ‘ I and my 
friend here, Monsieur Edwardes, an English gentle- 
man, whose yacht, the Carlotta,” is lying in the 
harbour, charge this woman here ’ — the old woman 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 187 

here shifted and turned a curious eye upon him — 
‘ first with attempting- to obtain money and jewels 
by menaces, having- no legal claim to the same ; sec- 
ondly, with attempted violence to a young lady now 
lying in that bedroom helpless with terror; thirdly, 
with being an escaped or released format, whose dos- 
sier I have no doubt I can produce.’ 

The senior sergent de ville assumed a grave air ; 
the junior stood at military attention, waiting upon 
events. 

^Will the two messieurs come round with me to 
the bureau and make a written statement ? ’ 

^Certainly,’ said Althaus; ‘and if it is thought 
proper at the bureau we are quite willing that the 
English consul should be sent for. But there is the 
yacht belonging to Monsieur Edwardes in the har- 
bour, and w^e are quite ready that she should be 
detained, or that the authorities should take any 
proceeding that may please them.’ 

The sergent was evidently puzzled. We might be 
telling him the truth or w^e might be bouncing him. 
He stared at us, bit his moustache, and said it was 
an affair very serious. 

‘It is. Monsieur le Sergent,' answered Althaus, 

‘ and that is why m^^ friend and myself wish every 
formality to be observed. May we now’ come with 
you?’ 

The sergent had no objection, but we must first 
prefer our charge against the old lady. 

Bound to the Bureau de Police we went. I can 
speak French as w^ell as most men who spend a 
month or two in France each year. Althaus spoks 


188 


Adventures of Ijiicy Smith 

it with the precision of a scientific book, and of course 
with a broad German accent. 

I began to think, after about an hour and three 
quarters, that the formalities at that Bureau de 
Police would never have an end. Each and every 
official was as punctilious as a Garter King at Arms, 
and a smile which I suppressed was going to flit over 
my face as I thought of Toinette fencing with her 
master in the ^ Bourgeois Gentilhomme.^ 

The commissaire, having heard what Althaus had 
to say and what I had to say, asked me whether I 
accused madame of attempt to assassinate, or of 
theft, or of attempted theft, or of all. Now, even in 
the army I had picked up enough law to know that 
when a slight charge will serve your purpose it is 
injudicious to prefer a grave one. You only arouse 
sympathy in favour of the prisoner. So I said that 
I charged her with attempting to obtain valuables 
by menaces; that at present, until the lady whom 
she had frightened into fits Could make a statement, 
I was not in a position to prefer any other charge, 
but that the charge I had mentioned I most dis- 
tinctly preferred and would abide by. 

it was well, said the commissaire. I must under 
stand that I must give some security for my good 
faith in the matter. Did I know the British con- 
sul? 

I said I did not, but I was^sure he would answer 
for me, and I should be glad if they would «end for 
him at once. 

This confidant answer seemed greatly to relieve 
the official mind. The commissaire considered. Then 


Captain Edioardes^ Narrative 189 

he gave his decision in most precise French, first 
asking me if I had the sum of fifty napoleons. 

I answered that on hoard the yacht was more 
than five hundred pounds in English notes and gold 
— the ship’s money-chest— the whole or any portion 
of which I would deposit as bail. If Monsieur le 
Commissaire would send down a sergent de ville 
with me, I could find the money at once, and we 
would return with it. 

The commissaire opened his eyes. Five hundred 
francs, he said, in English money would be quite 
sufficient for the purposes of justice. I might go 
down with a sergent who would give me a receipt for 
the money, and I might then consider myself, together 
with my friend and the young 'mademoiselle ang- 
laisey at perfect liberty. 

I bowed to the commissaire, who bowed to me in 
return graciously enough, and accompanied by the 
professor and a sergent de Villen I went down to the 
yacht, the old woman remaining in custody. 

On board the yacht we opened the eyes of the 
sergent by two or three petit s verres of a certain 
curious old cognac, and we found also that he did 
not object to about half a dozen cigars from a shop 
Avhich I do not hesitate to say is the best in Bond 
Street. We then went to the locker, next the chart 
and instrument locker, and produced the yacht’s 
money-chest, paying over the amount named in sov- 
ereigns, which happened to be fresh out of the Mint, 
and remembered that police officers may possibly have 
families, and are certainly always in need of petty 
cash, their wages being small and their work arduous. 


190 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


Having then handed over to us the receipt for our 
bail, the sergent scraped his left foot and flourished 
his cheese-cutter cap a good deal and departed ; evi- 
dently with the impression that if we were not lords 
in England, we ought to be, which perhaps made 
him wonder whether our political proclivities might 
not have given the Government of Lord Gladstone 
offence, and whether our yachting trip might not be 
a courteous kind of exile ; in which case he doubtless 
argued with himself that evening, over one of the 
cigars and a glass of absinthe at his favourite esta^ 
minet, it might be worth his while to communicate 
privately with the chief of the central bureau at 
Great Scotland Yard. 


Captain Edwardes* Narrative 


191 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


Althaus and I then went back to the hotel. The 
doctor in attendance had left a letter for the pro- 
fessor, which he read. ‘ The report,’ says Althaus, 
‘ is highly favourable. He says that the crisis is 
over, that there will be three of four days of equilib- 
rium, and that these will be followed by an aston- 
ishingly rapid recovery; and he has given her the 
very medicine which of all others he ought to have 
prescribed.’ 

‘ What is that ? ’ I asked out of curiosity. 

‘ Musk,’ said Althaus. 

‘ Musk ! ’ I replied, ‘ why, it is a scent.’ 

‘ So it is,’ said Althaus, ^ and a pretty potent scent 
too. But it is twenty times more potent as a drug 
than as a scent, and it acts directly upon the nervous 
centres.’ 

^Well,’ I said, ‘I am glad you. approve of his 
treatment. ’ 

^ My dear boy, French surgeons and physicians, or 
even foreigners who have studied in French schools, 
have not their equals upon an average in Europe.’ 

^ And how do 3^ou account for that ? ’ 

^ I should have to deliver myself of a lecture. But 
one great thing’ beyond all question is the universal 
practice of vivisection. And now let us talk no more 


192 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


shop. I will go upstairs and look round, and come 
back and report results.’ 

He came back and reported results. Lucy was 
asleep : there was no fever, and her pulse was regular 
and not at all weak. In ten days at the very latest 
she would be fit to set to sea in the yacht, or, indeed, 
to do anything. 

‘That is all, my friend,’ he said. ‘I am glad to 
tell you so much in so few words ; and I can tell you 
no more, except that I am informed that she has 
asked after both of us repeatedly, and, on being as- 
sured that we are well, has — so says the femme de 
chambre — smiled very graciously and observed that 
it is well.’ 

We passed out of the hotel into the great market- 
place. Then v/e roamed towards the Casino. My 
mind was at ease ; that of Althaus was in its regular 
and normal condition — ready and steady. 

At the Casino we played billiards. The professor 
was not a man who despised the lighter side of life 
at all, and he would as soon play a game of billiards 
for an hour as read the latest scientific treatise on 
some hitherto undiscovered microbe or as 3^et untried 
drug ; and he played billiards remarkably well. I 
know that I enjoyed the game, and that I had to 
play my level best to win. 

The billiards over, he said, ‘ Let us walk ; ’ and I 
turned out with him on to the plage, 

‘ The human brain,’ said the professor medita- 
tively, ‘ (and, indeed, any brain anywhere near it in 
its organisation,) is the most maiwellous mechanism 
known. To account for it without design is almost 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 193 

impossible. But to g^raiit desig-n, of course, is to 
grant everything. Grant design in the brain, you 
must grant it everywhere else. And then— ac/i/ 
ridiculous ! — there is an end science, and we are 
delivered over to the priests bound hand and foot. 
I have studied the brain more or less all my Jife, and 
the more I study it the more I marvel, and the less 
I find myself able to understand. Let me tell you 
some things. ’ 

Of course I acquiesced, and I shall now allow 
Althaus to continue without interposing my own 
obiter dicta of wonder and requests for further ex- 
planation. 

'A Prussian offiter,’ said Althaus, ‘is thrown 
from his horse and fractures his skull. They trepan 
him and put in a large silver plate, making a beau- 
tiful operation of it. When he recovers he remem- 
bers all his science — everyfiiing he has ever been 
taught. He remembers his mathematics, his lan- 
guages — which were numerous,; for he was an accom- 
plished man and in the Staff Corps. He remembers 
even the minutest detail of military drill and disci- 
pline. But he has forgotten his own name ; he. has 
forgotten where he^as born, whether his father and 
mother are alive, whether he has brothers and sis- 
ters, what was his regiment, who was its colonel, 
and even what is his nationality — the last thing in 
the world one would think a Prussian likel}" to for- 
get. All these things have slowly, gradually, and 
with great difficulty to be brought back to him. 

‘ This looks distinctly as if the scientific or purely 
InteEectual brain were one, and the practical or 


194 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


ordinary brain of daily life entirely another. And 
yet we know that in many cases, as in that of an 
engineer or a surgeon, they act in unison and are 


apparently identical. 


‘ Let me take another instance. A married lady, 
still in the prime of life and perfecth^ health^y, sus- 
tains a very sudden and severe shock. She is told 
without any warning, or attempt to even break the 
matter, that her brother, an officer in the English 
army, has been hacked to pieces by the Afghans. 
She faints, and lies for many days unconscious. 
When she recovers, I will not say her senses, but 
herself, she is sane and insane for alternate periods 
of twenty-eight days, varying exactly with the muta- 
tions of the moon, so that her friends can tell to the 
hour at what period it will be necessary to put her 
under restraint. I am no astrologer, but that the 
moon has an influence qti all animated life in this 
globe is a fact for schoolboys. Ask any old lady who 
has the quartan ag an old gentleman who has 

the gout. A more ar instance I need not men- 



tion. 


‘ These are what Bacon would call instantice lam- 
padis. They hold out a great , torch to us. But 
as yet we only understand them imperfectly. And 
now,’ said the professor, ‘ I am thirstj^ My soul is 
in my stomach, and it craves greedily for a large 
bock of lager. The old man is rendered powerless. 
May the worms have his carcass, and all the devils 
what may be left of his cancerous soul ! As for the 
pfd woman, the authorities will deal with her. Vio- 
lence, attempt at assassination. No explanation or 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 


195 


assig’nable motive. She will go to travaux forces 
a perpetuiU. Not all her little stock of skill will get 
her out of it. And now, my son, we have talked 
enough, or, at least, I .have talhed enough. Our 
patient could not he doing better. Let us for our 
part enjoy ourselves. The bod^^ needs sleep, v/e 
know ; the brain, which does the work of the body 
or supplies the motive power for that work, and 
does its own work as well, requires twice as much 
sleep as does the body. Let us allow our brains to 
doze, or let us, as you English put it, believing your- 
selves to be the only industrious people on the face of 
, the earth — let us be idle for a bit. Come, you shall 
: teach me to play poker. ’ 

‘I cannot play poker myself,’ I answered, with a 
most truthful laugh. 

, ‘ Quel dommage ! And I have been burning to 

learn poker for some months past. Well, we will 
i play piquet. ’ 

And we did play piquet, at whicAi lirfound myself a 
' baby in the professor’s hands. 

' ‘People talk of whist,’ he said; ‘it is not a bad 
game. But piquet has less chance in it than any 
; game at cards whatever. If two men play at it 
habitually, you will, after a week or two, be able to 
predict within five at least how many games out of 
; the next hundred the best player will win. But,’ he 
' added, dropping his voice, ‘ that presumes that they 
t are gentlemen, and play fairly. And it is very sel- 
j dorn indeed you find a Frenchman who does not take 
[ advantage of \ou at cards, exactly as you will never 
’ find an Englishman on the tiu*f who will not try to 


196 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


persuade you to take less or to g’ive more than the 
market odds. I know you do not gamble, m\^ dear 
young friend. Don’t begin. ’ 

^ I’m not likel3^ to begin,’ I said, with a laugh. ‘ It 
don’t care for it. But I like a stra}^ bet now and 
again on a particular event. ’ 

^ Good,’ grinned Althaus. ‘ That does you no 
harm. It is not the getting drunk now and again 
that hardens a man’s liver and softens his brain. It 
is the steady soaking from morning to night every 
da^^ of the week. Your men who kill themselves 
with drink are the men who are never seen drunk m 
their lives ’ 

‘ I shall not kill m^^self with drink, professor.’ 

" I think not. There are two deaths, for one of 
which a good man and a fearless should pray. One 
is to die peacefully^ and painlessly with his friends 
round him and in full possession of all his faculties — 
as Socrates died. The other is to die suddenl.y but 
also painlessl^^’f by some violent accident. Your 
English belief is that ^mu should pray to be pre- 
served from sudden death. Wlw, if 3"our mind is 
clear and you do not want time to make up 3'our 
accounts ? And ^mur mind is clear if it is clear to 
3^ourself. Your own conscience has been given 3^011 
for 3mur guide, and if you go to the conscience of 
another man you throw awa3^ the torch Heaven 
gave 3mu to ask that other man for a flicker from 
his own, which is certainly no better than 3murs.’ 


Captain Edwardes* Narrative 


197 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Two days later we attended before the tribunal in 
the Rue des Tribunaux. The matter was evidently, 
so far as I could make out, looked upon as one of 
considerable importance. In London there would 
have been a magistrate on the bench in ordinary 
morning dress, a clerk below him, and an usher. Here 
there were three Judges in strange bonnets like Lan- 
cer shakos, with extraordinary robes and bands, and 
below them an official of the court— its greffier — 
similarly rigged out, but less gorgeously. Gen- 
darmes and ser gents de ville to any number com- 
pleted the entourage. 

First we heard the evidence of the surgeon as to 
Lucy’s present condition. Then I gave my ac- 
count of what I had seen. Althaus followed. Then 
some of the servants at the hotel corroborated 
generally, and added a few minute details of their 
own. Then the old woman was interrogated by the 
court. 

^ What is your name ? ’ 

‘ Rebecca Jackson.’ 

‘ What nationality ? ’ 

‘ English.’ 

‘ Married or single ? ’ 

‘ A widow,’ 


198 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

‘ What made jmu go to the hotel and ask to see 
Miss Smith ? ’ 

No answer. 

The question was again repeated without an an- 
swer. 

^ Do you decline to answer ? ’ 

‘ Yes!’ 

‘ The court takes that as a presumptive of your 
guilt. Wicked woman ! jmu were there with some 
evil purpose which you dare not avow to the court, 
and you now defy justice in the person of the judges 
of the court.’ 

There was a silence for three or four minutes while 
the judges conferred. Althaus whispered quietly to 
me, ‘ They have some strong card up their sleeve.’ 

Then the president spoke. ‘ Were you convicted 
exactly eighteen years ago, by the Tribunal Cor- 
rectional of the Seine, for carrying on an extensive 
traffic of a most infamous character in the abduction 
of young girls for exportation to Belgium, Holland, 
and England ? ’ 

‘I deny it.’ 

‘ Do you deny it solemnly’' before this tribunal ? ’ 

‘ It was long ago.’ 

‘ Do you deny it ? ’ 

‘ It may have been.’ 

The president banged his desk. ‘ Do you deny it ? ’ 
‘No.’ 

‘ Were you sentenced, as there were no extenuating 
circumstances, to seven years’ travaux forces f ’ 

‘ I may have been.’ 

The president again referred to a paper before him. 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 199 

' Within two months after your liberation were you 
not sentenced again to seven years’ travaux forces 
for a similar offence ? ’ 

^ You know, if you have the she answered 

fiercely, ‘ and you would not believe me if I contra- 
dicted it. ’ 

‘ Good,’ said the president ; ‘ 3 ^ou are insulting the 
tribunal, which can afford to disregard your insults ; 
but the tribunal is arriving at the truth. Did you 
after that leave France for the United States of 
America ? ’ 

‘ I did.’ 

^ What did you do there ? ’ 

‘I shall not state.’ 

* Did you follow any honest calling ? ’ 

^ I shall not state.’ 

‘ Two 3 "ears later were you keeping a maison toU- 
ree in Brussels ? ’ 

‘ I may have been.’ 

‘ Had you by this time acquired money ? ’ 

‘ I had enough upon which to live.’ 

‘ Where did you next go to ? ’ 

‘ To London.’ 

‘ What did you do there ? ’ 

‘I lived in lodgings as a private wonian — lived 
quietly and respectably.’ 

The president looked up and down the dossier two 
or three times, but asked no more questions. Then 
he finally conferred with his colleagues, and then 
said, ^ This tribunal finds that you have been guilty 
of a most grave assault. The tribunal is ignorant 
of your motive. The young lady assaulted is so 


200 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


seriously injured and disorganised as to be unable to 
attend, but the tribunal has evidence sufficient to 
enable it to deal with you even in her absence. You 
have a character notoriously infamous. You have 
been many times before, this convicted to the knowl- 
edge of the tribunal, and doubtless many other 
times also, of which the tribunal has not cognisance. 
You decline to state anything that gives the tribunal 
any genuine information about yourself. The tribu- 
nal therefore assumes everything against you for the 
worst, for honest people have no reason to fear the 
tribunal, or to hide their doings from it. The tribu- 
nal finds that you have attemped to rob this ^mung 
English lady. It finds also that you have attempted 
so to rob her with circumstances of brutal outrage. 
It finds also that in such attempt you were reckless, 
and in effect did not care whether you took her life 
or not. The tribunal sends you for trial before the 
Supreme Court of Assizes of the Seine Inferieure, 
which will sit next week. If you want money for 
your defence it will be allowed you out of such moneys 
as have been found among your own effects.’ 

The judges rose and left the court. Mrs. Jackson 
took no notice of them, but she gave Althaus and 
myself an ugly look as she was removed. 

‘It will be travaux forces a perpetuite with her 
dossier f said Althaus as soon as we were in the open 
air. ‘ QoU im Himmel ! what a tarantula ! ’ 

But — for I may as well get rid of the subject at 
once — the sentence was not travaux forces a perpe- 
tuite nor anything of the sort. The old woman was 
lodged that night in a secure cell. Next morning 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 201 

she was found dead. She had obviously died from 
strangulation, and yet there were no signs of vio- 
lence. The good surgeon was puzzled. He opened 
her mouth to look at her throat. She had rolled her 
tongue up from the tip backwards and forced it into 
her throat as firmly as if it were wedged there, and 
had so gone, strangled by her own fingers, to meet 
her last reckoning of all. 

It' was a relief to have got rid of the hag, and to 
know that there would be no more trouble with her. 
She and her accursed emplo^^er were altogether and 
finall^^ out of our paths. All that was to be done 
now was to restore Lucy to health as soon as 
possible. 

It was the end of September, and the cruising sea- 
son was practically over; so after dinner, when 
Althaus had lit his great china bowl of dry tobacco, 
and I my cigar, we took counsel. 

‘ Whither shall we go, and what shall we do ? ’ I 
said. 

‘It will soon be too rough 'weather for your yacht,’ 
said the old man, who really knew something of 
everything. ‘ Besides Miss Lucy will want rest 
rather than the excitement of voyaging. She has had 
a most serious shock to her system, and must for 
some time be nursed, fondled, and otherwise treated 
like a child. Then, too, she is weak at present, and 
for many reasons the marriage must be deferred. 
My advice is that we lay the yacht up here in good 
charge and make our way straight to Paris. The 
French physicians are extremely clever, especially in 
the management of nervous cases, of which they 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


:>02 


have a very large supply and experience. We will 
go to Paris, and put up at one of the old-fashioned 
hotels in the Rue di Rivolo. As mademoiselle gains 
strength she shall be taken about, and shall 
thoroughly enjoy herself. Then, of course, jmu can 
get married at the Embassy, or at one of the Prot- 
estant churches. But the Embassy, I think, would 
please her ; and recollect that, for some time to come, 
she must be pleased and amused as carefully as she 
must be nursed and fed. The only way to keep her 
mind from what has happened, and to prevent her 
wandering back and dwelling upon what she has 
passed through, and to prevent also her confused rec- 
ollection making things worse than they are, and so 
driving her into melancholy which might possibh^ be 
permanent, is to give her every day something new 
to do and something new to think of. 

‘ When a financier or banker believes he is going 
to die — becomes hypochondriac, in point of fact— the 
best thing he can do is to dismiss both his doctor and 
his cook, and to send for a new cook at once. Gentle 
but constant change — not a turbulent change, but a 
pleasant, rippling, gurgling one — is what our patient 
wants, and you can give her that as well as any one. 
And 1 will not desert you until our patient is per- 
fectly restored. There is no self-denial in this, for 
my old crucibles and my metals of the platinum, 
gold, and iridium group can very well wait till I re- 
turn. They will not catch lumbago or rheumatism.’ 

I assured my dear old friend how grateful I was ' 
to him, and we then had our evening game of bil- 
liards, and so parted for the night. 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 


203 


CHAPTER XXX. 

A DAY or two afterwards I said to Althans, ^ My 
dear professor, we are lying here as idle as the 
yacht herself. There is nothing for us to do here, 
and there, is nothing to be gained by stopping. ' 

‘ The minds of friends jump,’ said Althaus, with a 
laugh, from behind his big china bowl. ‘ I was 
thinking the same thing myself, and was just about 
to speak to you on it.’ 

‘ Very well, then, let us leave here. The yacht 
can lay up in the harbour well enough, and you and 
I and Lucy will go away together, and not return 
here again till the sea is purple and the cuckoo has 
come.’ 

‘Well,’ said Althaus, ‘I thought you had made 
up your mind to take my advice and go to Paris. 
Why not start at once ? I have not pressed you, 
because I thougdit you Avere loitering, but that your 
mind was really determined.’ 

‘You are right, professor, and I have been un- 
grateful and wrong. We will start for Paris to- 
morrow morning. 

‘Good,’ said Althaus. ‘Of course Miss Lucy 
comes with us ? ’ 

‘Of course.’ 

‘ Then let us settle everything to-night, and retire 


204 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 


to bed in marching order. The yacht will guard 
herself till our return, or until you send for her.’ 

‘Most certainly.’ 

‘ You and I can pack to-night before we turn in.’ 

‘ Most certainly, if we go upstairs sober.’ 

‘ Good. It is now only four in the day. I will go 
and stretch my old legs and stroll through the fish 
market, and see if I can discover any curious fish, 
or better still, any of those rare varieties that some- 
times make their way up here from the Mediterra- 
nean. Do you know I have seen here in Dieppe and 
eaten here the sword-fish, the great sea-lamprey, 
and once or twice the fresh anchovy ? Shade of 
Brillat Savarin ! the fresh anchovy, daintily grilled 
over charcoal, and served a la blanchaille anglaise. 
Go, my son, see Miss Lucy and consult her as to our 
plans, see to your packing, and do as you please 
after that till we meet at dinner. 

I went up to see Luc3\ 

‘ Lucy,’ I said, ‘ do you feel well enough to move 
from here to-morrow ? ’ 

‘ Certainl}^ ; I feel quite strong again. I did not 
like to tell either of you for fear Dr. Althaus might 
be angry, but for three or four days past I have 
been taking long walks.’ 

I started. 

She laughed so light-heartedly that I had no 
longer any doubt as to her strength. 

‘ Have you really been out of the house ? ’ I 
inquired. 

‘ No, no, no. Do you think I would disobey dear 
Dr. Althaus ? I have waited until you have both 


Captain Edwardes* Narrative 205 

gone out, and then I have walked like a sentry up 
and down the long passage here, with a chamber- 
maid seated at the top of the stairs to see that no 
one should surprise me. And after each walk I 
have felt, as she told me the Americans say, an 
inch or two taller ; and then I have gone back to 
bed like a good little schoolgirl — a much better little 
schoolgirl than any that was ever under my charge. 
And I have been eating, oh ! quite greedily. The 
landlady came up and told me that if I did not order 
what I liked myself, she herself was to make a guess 
at what would be likel^^ to suit me, and was to send 
it up to me ; so I succumbed to the inevitable. And 
I have been eating fruit, better than any that I ever 
had even at Mr. Bulbrooke’s, except the hothouse 
grapes of his own growth. And besides the fruit, I 
have been having all kinds of what girls call goodies. 
So I am as strong as a giant, or giantess. I believe 
I could play a sett at lawn tennis to-morrow morn- 
ing. I never was better in my life, darling. You 
see there’s been the change of air, and the loving, 
tender nursing, oh ! and ever so many other things, 
and above all the getting rid for ever of those horri- 
ble dreams. You told me that I was rid of them 
for ever, and that my tormentors were powerless, 
and so did Dr. Althaus, but some day you must tell 
me how you did it — some long afternoon when we 
have nothing to do.’ 

^ You shalkbe told everything before long,’ I said. 
‘You shall be told every single thing very soon after 
we are married. There is, indeed, very little for me 
to tell you. How the horrible thing began and what 


206 


Adventures of Ijucy Smith 


it was like you know already. You know, too, that 
the old man is powerless for evil, and that Mrs. Jack- 
son is dead ; so there is a clean sweep of the decks. 
And now you and I and Althaus are here together. 
First we will get married, and then — then — why, 
then we will just in a quiet, harmless, innocent man- 
ner, but still, for all that, the most resolute manner 
in the world, go on the Spree. Althaus is a Ger- 
man, and the navigation of the Spree is only one of 
his infinite accomplishments. But we must have 
business first and pleasure afterwards, and we are 
all three going to Paris that you and I may he mar- 
ried at the British Embassy. That is a dry bit of 
business that had better be settled out of hand.’ 

She shut her eyes and put her hands over her face, 
and I could see her chest heaving violently. What 
idiots we men are, except in matters of real physical 
danger, when a man, if he be worthy of the title, will 
turn on the enemy as the boar of Calydon would 
have done! Here was I utterly demoralised by a 
girl’s crying, although there was really nothing in 
the world for her to cry about. 

I waited and let her have her cry out. I did not 
see what else to do. I have read some novels, and 
of course I am aware that I could have ‘ strained 
her to my bosom,’ that I could have ‘ rained kisses 
on her marble brow,’ that I could have ‘ poured out ’ 
all kinds of ‘ impassioned vows,’ in still more ‘ im- 
passioned accents.’ Let any man try any^ of these 
methods with a woman in a fit of crying, and let him 
see Avhat the result will be. I will tell him in an old 
proverb which I had somehow heard when I was only 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 207 

a boy of four : ^ Hold a guinea-pig- up by its tail for 
five minutes by tne church clock, and its eyes will 
drop out.’ There is a mine of wisdom in that prov- 
erb. I sat and waited. 

Presently Lucy stopped crying, and then I came 
and sat down close by her, put both her hands to- 
gether, and took them between both of mine. 

‘ Now look here, Lucy, my dear ; you must not ex- 
cite yourself, or you will get weak, and the kind 
professor wants to have you strong as soon as possi- 
ble. There is nothing whatever about which you 
need, as the Scotch say, ‘‘greet.” Our enemies are 
absolutely disposed of. You can never be harmed 
by them again. You have not another enemy in the 
world, as no one knows better than yourself. How 
I love you, you know also. Althaus looks on you as 
he might look, or rather would look, on a daughter, 
if he had one. He is a dear, noble old man, as 
staunch as steel, and as genuine as refined gold. If 
we were to come across the Bulbrookes, they would 
be delighted to see you. The two old sisters would 
welcome you, as you know, with tears of affection. 
Ever^^body who knows an^Thing of you, darling, 
loves you and likes you, and the first thing we will 
do, after our honeymoon, is to see the people who 
have been kind to you. I, as I have told you, have 
only one relation in the world who has chosen to 
quarrel with me, not without reason at all, but for 
reasons which do him infinite dishonour. So the 
whole coast is clear before us. We will spend this 
Christmas in New York, or somewhere where they 
keep up Christmas after the old fashion. But 1 


208 


Adventures of Jjucy Smith 


think New York is the best of all, and we will then 
pass the first three months of the year in sunny 
Florida or in glorious Jamaica — for Jamaica is to 
the world what the Isle of Wight is to England; 
and then, dearest, you shall choose everything for 
yourself. What do you say ? ’ 

^ All I have got to say is that you are very kind 
and good to me. You are ver3^ strong, strong in 
every way ; and I am very weak, weak in every way. 
You have saved my life. You hav^e saved me from 
something much worse than death — from a living 
death on earth. I can only say I am ver^^ grateful 
to you. “ Whither thou goest, I will go ; and where 
thou lodgest, I will lodge : thy people shall be my 
people, and thy God my God.’’ ’ 

have always approved of those sentiments,’ I 
said, ‘ and I am glad 3mu adopt them. And now, as 
a little change is alwa^^s good, let us go and walk 
along the quay. ’ 

So we went out and walked along the quay. It 
was still, of course, broad daylight. I pointed out 
to her the j^acht l^ing a long distance off at the other 
side of the harbour. Then we looked at the vessels, 
and I told her a few things about their rig and ton- 
nage, and so on. 

Then we strolled back again, and were making our 
way to the hotel when we met Althaus, who said he 
had gone back to the hotel, and finding we were out 
had come in search of us. 

^I have taken the liberty,’ said he, ‘ of fixing the 
time for dinner at seven o’clock. We thus avoid 
supper, which is always an unwholesome meal unless 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 209 

it follows upon excitement, such as a dance or the 
theatre, in which case it acts as an opiate and seda- 
tive. We will g*o to the Casino for half an hour.’ 

So to the Casino for half an hour we went, Althaus 
justifjnng- his intrusion by the mild vermouth, and I 
mine by absinthe. Lucy watched me compound my 
absinthe with extreme curiosity. When I had fin- 
ished it she said, ‘ What is the effect of that extra- 
ordinary stuff ? It is not any common sort of spirit 
or wine. It was quite clear, as clear as crystal, till 
you added to it water as clear as itself ; then it 
turned milky ; then it ran through all the colours of 
the opal, and then I noticed — indeed, could not help 
noticing — that it smelt horribly. I could almost be- 
lieve it to be magical.’ 

‘ It is almost magical, my dear child,’ I answered; 
Mt is a deadly poison. A large dose of it. — not one 
of those little liqueur glasses, but an honest half- 
pint — would kill a man to a certainty. Its effect is 
on the heart. It stops the heart’s action, and so 
lowers the pulse. Frenchmen drink it to cool them- 
selves, and it will cool you most undoubtedly, much 
more rapidly and effectually than will any pastry- 
cook’s ice. But its habitual use to any extent has 
only one end. Luckily it is excessively nasty — that 
is, unless you choose to persuade yourself that you 
like it.’ 

I felt her trembling as she huug on m^^ arm. 
‘ Was it ever considered a magical drug, Arthur? ’ 

‘ No, dearest, not that I know of, but the professor 
can tell us. I believe it is a sort of cousin to the 
southernwood, which is an innocent enough little 


210 Adventures of iMcy Smith 

g’arden shrub with a delightful smell. But ask the 
^professor.’ 

‘ It is/ said Althaus — and he meant business, for 
he put down his pipe and pushed away his vermouth 
• — ‘ a very curious and mischievous drug indeed — a 
drug like musk, which you have been taking, my 
dear, but which is not a drug to be trifled with. Its 
action, as Arthur has just said, is like that of hem- 
lock, directly upon the heart. It lowers the heat 
of the heart instantly. If the dose is large, or if 
the patient is weak, it may stop the action of the 
heart altogether. An immediate death may be the 
result, as if by an electric shock. Those who take it 
habitually in small quantities first become lazy and 
indifferent to their affairs, then imbecile, and ulti- 
mately hopelessly paralytic.’ 

^ What is the explanation of all this ? ’ I asked. 

‘ There is no explanation,’ replied Althaus. ‘ We 
only know that the facts are beyond dispute. ' Here 
in France, when a man takes to drinking absinthe 
regularly, his relations and friends give him up, and 
his business connections drop him, as thej^ would in 
England a man Avho took to openlj^ drinking brandy 
at all hours of the day. That is all I can tell you.’ 

‘ It is horrible,’ said Lucy, with a shudder. 

‘ But,’ said Althaus meditatively^ as ignoring his 
pipe he motioned to me for one of the cheroots that 
I was that day smoking, ‘ there are funnier things 
than that about the stuff — things which are puzzles 
to me, and which I should like some day to work out. 

‘ In the first place, as Miss Lucy remarked, when 
you mix your perfectly colorless and transparent ab- 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 211 

sinthe with your perfectly colorless and transparent 
water you get a dense result of milky white, as wliite 
as the whitest porcelain or native Parian. Then 
over and through this opaque white fluid begins to 
coruscate an aurora borealis, of every tint in the 
rainbow or in the fire opal. Then these colours die 
out, and the entire solution becomes a dirty yellow- 
ish white, ugly to look at and unwholesome to sw^ah 
low. Now the alchemists attached immense impor- 
tance to color, and in many respects they were not 
wholly wrong. For light is the source of all life and 
of all existence, save that of the dull rock or stone ; 
and colour is the child of light. For things have no 
colour of their own, but take their colour from the 
light which falls upon them.’ 

^ Things have no colour of their own, Althaus ? ’ 
1 asked. 

‘ Certainly not. The light falls upon things, and 
as it recoils from them upon our eye it gives us the 
notion of colour. What is the true colour of the sea? 
You have looked at it often enough. You ought to 
know. Is it black, or dark purple, or green, or blue, 
or dirty yellow, or what ? Come, veteran yachts- 
man, tell us. Old Homer called it wine-coloureU or 
wine-eyed, and so avoided the difficult 3 ^ For what is 
the colour of generous wine as you toss it about in 
its fiagon ?— black, or crimson, or red, or purple- 
blue? Name it, child. And that is why this 
absinthe has changed its hues in this way.’ Here 
we rose to go back to the hotel. 

We let Lucy pass in first and make her way up- 
stairs. Althaus and I remained under the porch. 


212 Adventures of L/ucy Smith 

^ You know/ said he, ‘I believe in magic to a cer- 
tain extent. I am a natural magician. As old 
Lucretius said nearly two thousand years ago, when- 
ever inen who are mostly fools come across a thing 
they cannot understand, they at once ascribe it to 
supernatural agency. 

Quorum operum causas nulla ration e videre 

Possunt, et fieri, divino numine consent. 

‘ ITbw, I have never held in the divinum numen 
yet. It may or may not exist. If it exists, it is 
benevolent to those who are intelligent and walk 
humbly in its ways. Seek, and ye shall find ; 
knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” That has 
been my decalogue. Work for others and not for 
yourself, who are but a unit, has been my creed. 
And thus have I, my dear son, picked up things, 
while that old villain has been wasting his evil life. 
Ach ! Love nature. Love all things that live. 
Harm nobody. Bear in mind that you must die, and 
that death may come at any minute, probably soon- 
er than later, and in the form of a man of business 
who cannot wait. So, my friend, will you be happy. 
Happier still if those whom you love love you in 
return. Where,’ he called out savagely and an- 
gi ily, ^ is that dull Bavarian of a waiter who pro- 
vides us with candles ? ’ 


Captain Edwardes' Narrative 


213 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

We made a most pleasant and happy trio, as 
befitted our last night at Dieppe. Althaus ate snails 
— they were very fine snails, with the purple bands 
beautifully marked on their shells — and lectured us 
learnedly on their history, telling us how they were 
brought in by the Romans, who were the best judges 
of eating and drinking in the world at their time, and 
who so esteemed the edible snail that they carried 
him with them wherever they planted a new colony. 

Then he waxed eloquent in praise of crayfish a la 
Bordelaise, and amused us both immensely by point- 
ing out that the lobster, with its exquisitely clean 
and white flesh, never kills its own meal, but is a 
scavenger, a ^picker up of unconsidered trifles,’ by 
no means cleanly or particular in its tastes. 

It seemed— I speak with all reverence— as if we had 
somehow tapped the dear old man, and come upon a 
stream of culinary erudition hitherto unsuspected 
even by myself. 

‘And yet,’ said he, ‘ after all I am a simple man. 
Give me a pickled herring and some rye bread, if the 
rye is not spurred, or a pork chop and some sauer- 
kraut which you can smell all the street off, and I 
enjoy a banquet fit for Olympus.’ 

‘Professor Althaus,’ I replied, ^ you are perverse. 


214 Adventures of Lucij Smith 

You know the old Socratic paradox, and of course 
believe in it, as I do. If 3 ^ou know that two and two 
make four, it is impossible for you to act on the 
practical assumption that they will come to five. If 
you pretend to act upon it you are only pla^dng* a 
part, either out of fun, or for some evil purpose. 
You know that as well as I do.’ 

‘There are a great many things, my dear Ed- 
wardes, which I do not know one quarter as well as 
you do. One of them, I see, is the “ Memorabilia ” 
of Xenophon, and another the “ Dialogues ” of Plato. 
Yes, I agree with the old hemlock-drinker — the first 
recorded martyr in the cause of scientific truth — that 
if you know what is right and act against your knowl- 
edge — if, as Protestants say, you sin against the 
light, you must do so wilfully, and that to sin wilfully 
against the light is in all human probability the sin 
of which we are told that it has no forgiveness either 
in this world or the next. But this is doctrinal 
theology, and a discussion of doctrinal theology at 
meals is forbidden even in Carmelite convents. 
There are still more of these dear snails still nestling 
among the vine leaves. Let me have them, my son. 
They are nourishing and good for old age.’ And the 
professor looked so portentously^ solemn that Lucy 
and I burst out laughing, until he too laid down the 
mask and joined us. 

‘ Laughing,’ said he, ‘ is a wonderfully good and 
wholesome exercise. It has a peculiar effect of its 
own upon the valves of the heart. And there is con- 
siderable truth in the saying that those live the 
longest who laugh the most often and the most 


Captain Edivardes' Narrative 21^ 

heartily. But laugh at something worth laughing 
at. I have often wondered whether the story told by 
Buridanus is true or not. Any way it is exquisitely 
funny.’ 

‘ What is it ? ’ asked Lucy. 

‘ Why, a countryman was going along the road, 
and he saw a donkey, evidently very hungry, going 
in front of him and in quest of provender. Presently 
the donkey came to a portion of the road where a 
gigantic thistle, a beautiful thistle, grew on the 
right-hand side of the road, and an equally gigantic 
thistle, an equally beautiful thistle, exactly opposite 
on the left hand side. Herr Donkey paused to con- 
sider which of the two thistles was the finest and 
most succulent. On this question, by the conditions 
of the problem, he can come to no solution. Which 
thistle is he to choose ? He pauses to make up 
his mind. But there is no reason why he should 
make up his asinine mind for the thistle on his left 
hand rather than for the thistle on his right, or for 
the thistle on his right hand rather than for the 
thistle on his left. So he stands unable to make up 
his mind. And the very reasons which made him so 
stand unable to decide have kept him standing there 
to this day, and will keep him standing there to the 
day of his death.’ 

The story was told by old Althaus so gravely and 
comically that Lucy broke into a ripple of laughter 
at once. 

‘You imagine,’ said Althaus, ‘that we old men 
who study science, and always have our noses 
over the crucible and our fingers among the charcoal 


216 Adventures of Lnicy Smith 

tong's, are dull dogs, morose and chilly. You are 
quite wrong. We are always face to face with 
Nature ; and the more 3*ou see of Nature the more 
^ou become instinct with life. And the more life 
there is in you, the greater will be your powers of 
happiness and enjoyment, down to what are perhaps 
their crudest forms, such as fun and horse-play. 
Ach, mein Gott! and I am lecturing. Son of mine 
forgive me, and pass me the Steinberg. This Stein- 
berg,’ continued the old man, looking lovingly 
through it at the light, ‘is from grapes, each of 
which was selected by hand, and was without a flaw. 
Wonderful ! And yet the trouble might easily have 
been spent upon worse objects. ’ 

Althaus finished his Steinberg as if he were per- 
forming a religious or sacrificial duty, but I need 
hardly say with a full cognizance of the irony of all 
that he had been saying. And then he lit his china 
bowl and I my cigar. 

‘Half an hour of tobacco,’ said the professor, 
‘will do Miss Lucy no harm if she abstains from 
coffee.’ 

Lucy replied that she did not want coffee, prefer- 
ring the professor to all the coffee in the world. So 
we sat for half an hour and talked about nothing — 
about places to which we had been, and old recollec- 
tions, and pictures and books which we liked or dis- 
liked as the case might be. And it occurred to me 
how delightful it w'ould be next year for us to find 
ourselves all sitting together in the same way under 
my own veranda in England. Thinking of the past 
or speculating as to the future must tax the brain 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 217 

more than contemplating* the present, for you will 
certainly find that either operation almost imme- 
diately makes you sleepy. 

I felt this drowsiness coming over me, so I some- 
what unfairly and dictatorially packed Lucy oft’ to 
her room, and then took Althaus’ arm and went out 
with him into the street. 

‘Althaus,’ I said, ‘the girl is well again — as well 
as you or I.’ 

‘ Of course she is.’ 

‘ Thanks to you entirely, Althaus.’ 

‘ Thanks to her strong constitution, to the benev- 
olence of Nature, and to the admirable nursing she 
has had.’ 

‘ Well, I am too happy to-night to argue with you. 
Let us play one single game at billiards and then 
virtuously retire, that we may be in time for the 
Paris train to-morrow. 

So we went and played billiards, and I committed 
a pious fraud. We agreed to play a hundred up, 
and Althaus won. I managed it so cleverly that he 
believed in his victory and was fairly delighted. 

‘You are love-engrossed,’ said he. ‘You are 
playing far below your form. I have beaten you by 
twenty points, when you could easil^^ have given me 
—ah, more than fifty ! ’ 

‘ Queen Mab has been with me, Althaus,’ I said. 

‘ Oh, I have read your “ Romeo and Juliet.” 
Well, well, let us go to bed, to journey happily and 
comfortably together to-morrow. Kirschwasser ? 
Yes. There is prussic acid in it, and it steadies 
the nerves marvellously,’ The old professor’s eyes 


218 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

sparkled. Then as we reached the hotel he solemnly 
addressed the waiter. 

‘ W aiter, as you value your g*ood character in 
this Avorld and your happiness in the next, you will 
see that we do not miss the train to-mori*ow morn- 
ing*. Yours, waiter of mine heart, will be a labori- 
ous task. But verily the labourer shall find that he 
has- been deemed worthy of his hire.’ And then he 
wrung m3^ hand and trotted up to bed for the night. 
What a wonderful old man I 


Capta in Ed ivardes ’ Ncu rati ve 


219 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

The waiter accomplished his task next morning 
with military precision and exactitude. We had all 
of us had our coffee and pistolets, and were in the 
hall with our luggage carefully packed, and fit for 
transport to St. Petersburg if necessary, ten min- 
utes before the agreed time. Luc^^’s step was firm 
and elastic, her eyes were bright, and the roses in 
her cheek were those of health and happiness. 

Althaus was as radiant and full of life as a fourth 
form public schoolboy home for the midsummer hol- 
idays. He was scrupulously attired as a tourist, 
down even to so minute a detail as a gigantic field- 
glass slung over his shoulder, and the stem of his 
china bowl thrust itself obtrusively out of his breast 
coat pocket. His hands he carried in his trousers 
pockets, and he kept on whistling snatches from the 
overture to ‘ Fra Diavolo.’ 

Again I say it, wonderful old man ! 

I do not want to dwell on the details of our jour- 
ne3^ Lucy and I were married at Paris at the Em- 
bassy, as had been arranged ; and if the ceremony 
was rather civil than ecclesiastical in its general 
features, we did' not regard it with any the less 
reverence on that account. Our quarters were in 
the Rue de Rivoli, at a comfortable old-fashioned 
hotel where Althaus was well known. 


220 


Adventures of Lucy Smith 

He had, it seems, some 3’ears before succeeded in 
curing* the landlord thoroughly of a most obstinate 
quartan ague, the periodical returns of which had 
driven the poor man nearly mad with pain. 

*Ach I ’ the professor said to me, ‘ how it does fos- 
silise a man, how it does make a pedant, a Diafoirus 
of the worst type of him, to bring him up in any 
school so exclusively that its formulas become to him 
a sacred shibboleth ! Fifteen years ago but few peo- 
ple knew of the wonderful properties of the eucalyp- 
tus, the Australian blue gum tree — a tree as valua- 
ble to the world as the quinine plant or the opium 
poppy. Everybod^^ laughed at it. I cured our good 
friend here of his ague with eucalyptus gum and 
decoction of eucalyptus leaves. That was some few 
years ago. Now every medical man knows when to 
use eucalyptus and how to use it, and they all use 
it freely. What humbugs many of them are ! My 
dear Edwardes ’ — and here his voice dropped into an 
earnest tone — ‘ each one of us ought to regard such 
little knowledge as he may have picked up as a 
sacred trust, to be used for the good of humanity 
without distinction of race, creed, or person. These 
pedants regard their miserable quantum of super- 
ficial information as a piece of private property of 
their own, on which they are justified in making the 
highest possible percentage, so that, if possible, they 
may multiply it a thousandfold, and be Avealthy, and 
live in a large house with a chateau in the country, 
Oh ! but it sickens me ! ’ 

We had no more scientific conversations in Paris, 
Althaus and I. But the three of us spent a most 


Captain Edwardes^ Narr'ative 221 

delightful seven days more there, and then made our 
way to England, and somewhat recklessly perhaps, 
not being crowned heads or plenipotentiaries extra- 
ordinary, took up our quarters at Claridge’s, from 
which noted hostel as a base of operations Althaus 
had his first survey of London. He was evidently 
astonished, for he said next to nothing, which for 
him was always a strange sign. 

He dined with me at my old club. We went, all 
three of course, to the principal theatres, to Lucy’s 
intense enjoyment. One day when it was rather 
chilly I took the professor to the Tower, and thought 
I should never get him out. Next day, however, I 
discovered a still greater reserve of obstinacy in him 
when, after considering what would interest him 
most, I marched him round to the Museum of the 
College of Surgeons, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where 
he stood at least half an hour before the skeleton of 
the Irish giant. 

Late in the year as it was, we managed to dine at 
Richmond, and also at Greenwich ; and the Botani- 
cal and Zoological Gardens transformed mj^ dear 
friend into a very schoolbo^^ with pure scientific 
delight. 

‘ It is a noble country,’ said he, ‘a noble country, 
where science needs not subsidising from the State, 
but can thus magnificently support itself. I know, 
ah ! well do I know, the Jardin des Plantes and the 
Jardin d’Acclimatisation. But what are they to 
these? Bah! nothing.’ 

At Kew, where I managed through interest to 
obtain permission for myself and a distinguished 


090 


Advenhtres of Lucy Smith 


foreigri savant to inspect the herbarium, and to 
visit parts of the gardens from which as an inflexi- 
ble rule the public is excluded, the old man’s delight 
knew literally no bounds. 

‘ Son' of mine,’ said he, ‘this London of yours — 
with its British Museum, and its South Kensington 
Museum, and its Zoological Gardens, and its Botani- 
cal Gardens in the Regent's Park, and its Botanical 
Gardens at Kew, and its Museum of the College of 
Surgeons, and its Christy Collection, and its admi- 
I’able Geological Museum in what I think you call 
Jermyn Street, and its Patent Museum, besides that 
compact Museum of Sir John Sloane in your fields of 
Lincoln’s Inn, has finer collections than any city in 
the world ; to say nothing of your King’s Librar}^, 
or, as you call it, your British Museum Library ; to 
say nothing of your absolutely unique collection of 
old weapons and armour at the fortress of the Tower 
— ought to be the seat of the first university in 
Europe. And yet the London University is — ach ! ’ 
and he looked volumes in one glance — ‘ a body with- 
out a single professor of European note, and that 
does not even pretend to do more than to examine 
for degrees. It is shocking ! ’ 

We decided for the present to postpone our visit to 
the United States, and to settle somewhere in the 
country, and within a week I found the kind of place 
we were in search of. It was on the South-Western 
line as nearly as might be midway between London 
and Southampton. Let me describe it. 

It is a large, rambling, red brick house, with heavy 
rnullioned windows and slate roof of the Tudor period. 


Captain Edwavdes Narrative 223 

But with the exception of the g'rand oak staircase, 
and the oak panelling’ in the hall and reception 
rooms, it was gutted some fifteen years ago, and 
reconstructed with all the most approved appliances 
known to sanitary science, from self- ventilating 
chimneys in the roof down to self flushing drains 
under the floors. 

The garden, which is large, bears everywhere the 
mark of age. Nothing but lapse of years, for in- 
stance, could give ^mu turf so deep and velvet}^ or 
mulberry trees of such antiquity, hooped together 
with iron like Herne oak in Windsor Forest, and 
yet bearing each year heavy crops of fruit. To the 
wall with a southern and an eastern aspect, covered 
with trained wall-fruit, there seems no end ; as also 
none to the forcing-houses, down even to an orchid- 
house of which a Chamberlain himself might not 
think unworthily. 

I took it as it stood, stock, lock, and barrel, with 
the pigeons in their cote, the poultry in the yard, the 
cows in the shed, the ducks and geese on the pond in 
the long meadow, and even the goats which were do- 
ing nothing on a piece of waste ground at the rear. 
However, the^^ were Syrian goats, with silky wool, 
pendulous ears, and so perhaps entitled to be aristo- 
cratic and idle. 

I took the horses too, but of them I got rid with 
promptitude, replacing them with others of my own 
selection. The pictures inside the house I had no 
wish to replace. They were all of them genuine, and 
some of them by famous masters. My favourites 
are three or four undoubted ^old Cromes,’ which I 


224 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

am told will in a few years be worth five times what 
I have given for them. I shall not part with one of 
them for any money. 

We have persuaded Althaus to remain with us. 
Lucy niost ingenuously suggested the method. 

‘ Have down a scientific builder, dear, from Lon- 
don.. ..Do not let the dear professor know what he is 
here for, but let him at once make you plans for a 
chemical laboratory in its own piece of ground, with 
all the latest appliances in the way of ventilation, 
furnaces, gas apparatus, and other things he has 
spoken about.’ 

I took the hint and did so, and when the architect 
had prepared his plans I persuaded that gentleman 
to remain with us under pretence of completing 
them. 

One morning, Althaus, having evidently girded 
himself for the battle, announced very sternly and 
resolutely that he was going “back to Strasburg in 
the first week of the following month, to complete 
his series of researches upon the platinum and irid- 
ium group. 

? ^ That is a great pity, Althaus,’ I said, ‘ for in less 

than three months you will be so much better able 
to complete them here.’ 

Never before had I in my own person puzzled the 
old man. He stared at me in blank bewilderment. 

‘ What on earth do you mean ? ’ he asked. 

‘ You have noticed some building going on at the 
edge of the garden, between the garden and the big 
meadow ? ’ 

‘Yes: what is it intended for? I thought it 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 225 

would be for some new greenhouse or hothouse, or 
something of the sort.’ 

‘ Althaus, Althaus ! j^ou do not even know the one 
thing you have been studying all your life. When 
one thrusts it close under your nose it is out of focus 
and you are bewildered by it, although you would 
recognise it at once at a reasonable distance. Here 
are you, who have been watching the masons every 
day since they turned the first turf of the foundations, 
and yet you do not know for what that new building 
is intended. 

^Ach! mein Gott im Himmel! and I do not in- 
deed,’ grunted Althaus in the most dissatisfied of 
tones. 

‘ It is a cottage for you,’ said I, ‘ where you may 
spend as much time as you like, and make as many 
smells and explosions as you please, if you will 
promise not to take up your abode in it altogether. 
Here are the plans and elevations. Let us come and 
see how they are getting on with their work.’ 

I handed the roll of papers to my friend, but he 
took it mechanically, not attempting to unroll 
them, and we walked in silence towards the works 
together. 

As we came up I signalled to the men to stop work. 
They did so, and we walked round and round, and in 
and about in silence. Then Althaus burst out. 

‘ Himmel I There is no such laboratory in Europe ! 
There is the concrete floor where the furnace will be 
fitted, and there are all the fixtures for the still, so 
that I shall never be short of distilled water ; and 
there is the sand-bath, and the acids and vapour cup- 


Adr.eidnres of Lury Smith 

bo:ird ; and I see now where the slielves and pi*esses 
and everything- will be, down to the smallest detail. 
Never was a laboratory so arranged. Why, twenty 
^men accustomed to their work could work in it 
together easily.’ 

'I do not think twenty men ever will work in it, 
mj^ dear Althaus. It is your laboratory, and it will 
be ready for use, I am assured, by the end of next 
month. Those are the plans and elevations of it, 
which you can look over at your leisure. For my- 
self, I have taken, or mean to take when on shore, to 
the reai-ing of pigs and poultry and pigeons, and the 
cultivation of grapes and peaches. Come and look at 
the money I am throwing- away in improving the 
hothouses.’ 

I turned the subject thus lightly because the old 
man’s eyes were full of tears, and he was evidently 
deeply moved. A laboratory such as this must 
always have been the dream of his life. And here, 
while still within life’s prime, he had got the very 
tiling for which he had always been longing. 

So we strolled over the hothouses, and Althaus 
thoroughly approved of their construction, and was 
especially delighted to find that there was not only 
an orchid-house — orchid-houses were not so univer- 
sal then as they have since become — but also an 
aquatic house, where I was going to lay down the 
Victoria lily and the Blue Nile lotus. 

‘ What bats we men of science are,’ he said, 'ex- 
cept when we are actuall^^ at work on our own par- 
ticular subject ! Now, if I had only said to myself in 
a spirit of true inquiry, " Althaus, what is our young 


Captain Edicardes’ Narrative 22? 

friend erecting?” I must needs, by inspection and 
consideration of the exterior of ^mnder building alone, 
have found out that it was intended for a laboratory. 
And yet the whole thing has been going on under 
my very eyes, and I have seen nothing of it. I de- 
serve to stand on the stool with the sugar-loaf cap on 
my head.’ 

‘You deserve to come indoors with me,’ I an- 
swered, ‘ and to have a glass of Schnapps.’ 

And this sound advice was acted upon. / 


22S 


Adventures of L/ucy Smith 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A WEEK later Althaus and I went to London for 
forty-eig'ht hours. I wished to see my lawyers, and 
Althaus was desirous of meeting- a brother professor 
who was making a short stay in England. 

We reached home on our return about three in the 
afternoon, and on our arrival my wife’s maid in- 
formed me that her mistress was extremel^^ unwell. 

‘ You got my telegram, sir, at the club last night ? ’ 
she asked. 

'No, I did not go there. Where is your mis- 
tress ? ’ 

‘ In bed, sir. I sent for Dr. Reader this morning, 
and he has given her a composing draught, and is 
coming in again this evening.’ 

I hastened to Lucy’s room, and found her in floods 
of tears. 

' What is the matter, my darling? ’ I asked. 

' Oh, Arthur ! ’ she cried, ‘ those terrible dreams 
have returned — last night and the night before. Oh, 
I have suffered agonies ! ’ 

' Great Heaven ! Thank God we have Althaus 
with us. Don’t be afraid, my SAveet one. All will 
yet be well. I will be with you again in a moment.’ 

I hurried down to the professor. ' That devil is 
at his work again,’ I said. 


Captain Edwardes^ Narrative 229 

‘ What do you mean ? ’ 

‘ I mean that the dreams have returned, and my 
wife is half out of her mind.’ 

‘ It is incredible. Let us go to her at once.’ 

‘My dear Mrs. Edwardes,’ said Althaus, ‘your 
Ausband has told me what you have said. Are you 
quite sure of this ? ’ 

‘ As if there could be any doubt ! ’ cHed poor Lucy 
through her tears. 

‘ Have courage, my child. Your husband and I 
will start immediately, and it shall be ended this 
time once and for all. We shall be back to-morrow 
night. I will go and see Dr. Reader before we leave. 
Y ou will not be troubled, to-night. Take old Althaus’ 
word for that. You believe me, don’t you ? ’ 

‘ Of course I do. I should be most ungrateful if I 
doubted you for an instant.’ 

On the morrow we again stood in front of the 
gates of the magician’s house. This time we did not 
stop to ring the bell, but forced the gate and en- 
tered. We walked up to the house. The frontdoor 
was not locked, so we opened it and went in. The 
room on the right hand of the door was open, and 
seated there we saw the old man. 

He first caught sight of me, rose to his feet, and 
came into the hall; and when he saw Althaus he 
turned livid and trembled violently from head to 
foot. He stretched out his hands before him wildly 
as if in terror and deprecation. 

Then Althaus, looking at him sternly and without 
an element of mercy in the wu'ath that streamed from 


^ 230 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

his eyes, asked, as an inquisitor might ask an ad- 
mitted heretic, ' Why have you broken your pro- 
mise ? ’ 

‘ I have not broken it,’ he gasped. 

‘Liar ! ’ cried Althaus. ‘ I will not bandy words 
with you. You knew the consequences. You must 
have known that I should keep my word. ’ 

Althaus seemed to swell to twice his natural height. 
He was a tall man, nearly six feet, who at fifty must 
have Jiad the physique of a Thorwaldsen. The magi- 
cian seemed to wither up under his gaze. He swayed 
for a minute to and fro, then reeled, then stretched 
out his hands, groping as if like Elymas suddenly 
struck with blindness. Then I saw a ghastly 
change come over his features. They had turned 
livid, as I have said. Now all colour went out of 
them. An ashy hue flitted across them. Then 
their tint died out altogether, and gave way to a 
foul, dirty green, like that on the belly of some 
loathsome reptile. 

Then the blood gushed violently from his ears, 
eyes, nose, and mouth, and fell splashing on the tes- 
sellated pavement of the hall. For a second or two I 
watched him in astonishment and terror. The next 
he had crashed forward on his face with a sound as 
of breaking and splintering bone and bruising flesh. 

There he lay prone in the centre of a large pool of 
blood which kept spreading round him like a circle, 
and in which the whole scene all round was reflected 
as in the foul stew of some witch’s caldron. 

Althaus looked at the body for a moment with 
apparent curiosity. Then he rolled it over on its 


Captain Edwardes’ Narrative 231 

back with his foot. Then again he looked at me 
significantly. The old magician was dead. And, 
as we stood by him, m^^ friend and I could see how 
in his agony and terror he had clenched his hands 
until the fingers had forced their way into the palms, 
and where each fist lay on the pavement was shaping 
itself a dark pool of black blood. 

I felt faint and sick and giddy, as if I had been 
witnessing some scene of torture or execution, and 
the professor noticed the change over my face, for he 
spoke at once, and his tone was solemn. 

‘ In the net which he spread privily,’ said my old 
friend, ‘has his foot been taken. And his soul is 
with the devils, to whom he long since made it over. 
Earth is rid of a monster which was more venomous 
than any viper, more merciless than any basilisk, and 
for killing which we shall not go without our reward ; 
for ’ — and here his voice dropped — ‘ the whole of 
to-day, Edwardes, our lives have been in the hollow 
of our hands. But there is no magic now. The foul 
thing is lying putrid in its own ooze and slime.’ 

It was a gasthly sight. 

We hurriedly looked round the hall. At one end 
of it was a large purple curtain, heavy with gold 
embroidery. Althaus went towards it. He must 
have had far more physical strength than I had ever 
given him credit for, for with one hand he rent it 
down from its fastenings. We threw this strange 
pall over the body, and strode side by side to the 
open door, down the gravel path, through the little 
wicket, and into the road. 

. It seemed to do me good to be in the air again, 


232 Adventures of Lucy Smith 

and to hear the birds calling’ to each other, and to 
see the insects darting by and overhead. 

Exactly a year had passed since the events I have 
just endeavoured to describe. Lucy is walking up 
and down the broad gravel path, and by her side is 
a great Alsatian nurse carrying a boy propor- 
tionately as sturdy as herself. The yacht is being 
got into commission in the Solent, for we shall start 
for the Riviera as soon as Lucj^ is allowed to venture 
on the journey. 

Althaus is quite reconciled to remaining with us. 
Should he spend the whole day in the laborator^^, not 
even putting in an appearance at luncheon or at din- 
ner itself, nothing is said. This makes his mind easy, 
and he assures me that his magnum opus on the 
platinum group is all but ready for the press. 

‘ And what is more,’ he adds, with a strange fire 
in his eyes, ‘it is I the dreamer who shall haVe the 
laugh at you the practical man before I have done. I 
shall make many thousands of pounds, which, having 
not a relation in the world, I shall leave to your little 
son, as some small return for the princely munificence 
which has enabled me to make the discovery, and 
so to place my name on the roll of chemists before 
I die. Son of mine, what is iridium ? ’ He has often 
told me, although he does not recollect it. 

‘ Hardest metal known,’ I answer, with the 
promptitude of a village schoolboy. ‘A point of 
iridium will scratch hardened steel or the surface of 
a diamond; is principally^ used for pointing gold 
pens, which it renders practically indestructible ; 


Captain Edwardes- Narrative 233 

has hitherto only been discovered in very small 
quantities. That’s about all, Althaus.’ 

‘ Right enough so far as it goes,’ said Althaus. 
‘ Let me add to it. Has since been discovered to 
exist in considerable quantities in the ores of palladium 
and osmium, and has been separated from them, 
smelted, and produced in its metallic form by Herr 
Althaus, of Strasburg, who has patented the process, 
and affirms that he can produce the metal to any 
amount from the refuse of platinum ores.’ 

‘ Is that so, Althaus ? ’ 

‘ True as the blessed noonday, son of mine.’ 

‘ Then let us come into the house and drink a bottle 
of your favourite Steinberg to the success of the dis- 
covery, which will not make you more famous than 
you were, but will certainly make you as rich as any 
English coal-owner — which is saying a good deal. 
Come into the house, and let us tell Lucy, who owes 
everything to you, as I do.’ 


THE END. 


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